


The Shattered Dream of Innocence

by Lotornomiko



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Coming of Age, F/M, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-04-07 04:01:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 93,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4248564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotornomiko/pseuds/Lotornomiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brand Spanking New Summary! </p><p>Adults can’t be trusted, Emma Swan knows this first hand. They lie and they hurt, and act with an evil that leads to all kind of ruin. They shatter dreams and destroy innocence, and more than not trusting them, Emma has never wanted to grow up to be just like them. Never once tempted, never once dreaming, she’s about to find out that becoming an adult is not just inevitable, it’s a fate that just might be worth dying for.</p><p>This unavoidable state, this end to her childhood? It comes in the form of a storm dark pirate named Captain Hook. Through her encounters with the pirate, Emma’s about to learn it all, the joys and the sorrows of being an adult, the heartbreak and elation of letting go. There’s a choice to be made here, a future that might just be worth reaching for, if her friends and her family don’t tear her apart. If HE doesn’t tear apart, the demon known as Peter Pan willing to go to just about ANY length to keep her….</p><p>As of 2/15/2018 currently going over it, to correct a few typos, and do some overhaul and rewriting, to hopefully get Arc Two finally started! A Hook Emma pairing....some triggers may apply...24 has been completely rewritten</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot my disclaimer. I do not own Once Upon a Time, or the characters of Hook, Emma Swan, Tinkerbelle or Peter Pan. I do not make any money off of this story. This is done purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> \----Michelle

Emma Swan has had a ritual, one she has adhered to since she was about eight years of age. This is a ritual that would have her climb out of bed every night without fail, find the nearest window, and sit on it's sill. It's a ritual that she repeats even to this night, countless years later, with something that might just be the fading hope in her heart leading her gaze to the sky. That ebony blanket broken up by the stars and the city’s lights, Emma has always waited with held breath for clocks all around the world to strike the midnight hour. And every night, ushered in by that welcoming clatter, the midnight star would emerge from behind a cloud, shining brighter than all the other twinkling lights in the sky. 

She hadn't yet been old enough to understand that it was magic that she was witnessing. Hadn't been old enough to comprehend the differences in time, how it couldn't possibly be midnight everywhere all at once. All Emma had really understood at eight years of age, was that the midnight star was the biggest, the brightest, the most sparkly of it's kind. Which made it perfect for wishing on. 

At eight years of age, Emma Swan's wish had been simple enough. A child's yearning to belong, a child wanting a mother and a father of her own, to love her, to care for her, and to be with her always. At eight years of age, Emma Swan had been wishing for a family, and it hadn't really mattered to her who that family was, so long as she had one. 

She came to regret that wish after years of bouncing from one foster family to another. The temporarily families that she had had, numbered almost as many mothers and fathers as they did siblings, Emma being shuffled from one household to another. So many people in her short life, many of whom she couldn't remember fully, their faces all blurring together, save for the worst ones, the greedy ones, the cruel ones, the ones that she most feared.

There was abuse and neglect in Emma's life. There were parents who hit her, who stole from her, who talked down and degraded her. There were parents greedy for the money the government gave them, men and women who had gone to great lengths to make sure little Emma was considered unadoptable. There were women who were emotionally unavailable, using the funds intended for Emma's care and upbringing, on their own needs. There were men who drank, who were quick to lash out, and in one case even where she had been burnt repeatedly by one man's cigarette. 

Emma has never been told that she is loved, or that she is smart, or pretty, or has a good heart. Instead she was and is insulted, made to feel small and unwanted. Ugly. Hated. Stupid. And sometimes, Emma believed them, because surely there had to be a reason why no mother or father had appeared to claim her and to love her. 

And yet she never stopped wishing, hoping for a way out of her miserable situation. Surely there was someone out there who could love her. Surely there was a family just waiting to find her. It wasn't always easy to believe, to keep the hope alive in her heart. Even as she grew older, her body starting to mature just enough, Emma kept on wishing. Kept on secretly believing in the power of the midnight star. 

Things didn't get better with age. If anything they grew worse, and far more dangerous. The put downs kept coming, the thieving kept happening, but now her foster parents saw her differently. The women who got to be her mother, seemed to have an instant dislike for Emma, making her do backbreaking chores. While the fathers seem to leer, eyeing her and her foster sisters with predatory intent. Emma wasn't stupid, no matter how hard others tried to convince her of otherwise. She saw what had happened to the older girls, to the ones who had developed full breasts, who were pretty, who weren't smart like Emma. The ones who didn't know enough to wrap up their breasts under a flattening band of cloth. The ones who didn't know to wear loose, baggy clothing, and always keep their face smudged and their hair streaked with dirt. 

Emma had learned to hide as best that she could. Not just with her physical appearance, but with how often she was seen by those overly touchy, predatory fathers. It kept her from being molested, from being abused and raped. 

Not wanting to be noticed, Emma kept quiet about what went on in these houses. She knew from the older girls' experiences, that to speak out, was to get a beating on top of being molested. Speaking out never accomplished much, and neither did running away. Emma was always found, if not in the city she had started in, then in a new one, given to a new foster family, with their own set of cruelty and perversions. 

Emma wasn't always safe from her own foster brothers and sisters. The children were always angry and upset, quick to pick fights, and even quicker to do harm. Food wasn't always plentiful, the older children quick to starve the younger ones out of their portion of the meals. Drugs were often used, and sometimes the older children traded sexual favors for things that they wanted. Other times, the boys might just take what they wanted, regardless of what their foster sisters desired. It was a vicious dog eat dog world, a cycle of never ending abuse, the children learning from the only examples that they had. Bullying those weaker then themselves, everyone seemed out to hurt someone else, caring only for their own want and needs. 

Frightened by her every day life, Emma was at times bitter and jaded. Especially when the other children mocked her for her dreams of a better life, of a loving family, where she was protected, rather then terrorized. She was branded naive, a baby, and it was becoming more and more a habit for Emma to be attacked by her foster siblings, who despised her for the beliefs that they had once shared too, before the abuse had shaken them free of such notions. 

Emma was a stubborn, hopeful girl, not ready to give up on her dreams. But with every taunting word, every cruel punch, and every perverted touch, she was slipping closer and closer to giving up. To accepting her reality, dismal and as damaging as it was. It got harder and harder to get up each night, to creep over to the nearest window, and gaze up at the night sky. Emma had known that soon she would stop the ritual all together, that she would become just another sad statistic of an even sicker abuse. It would happen, and it was looking to be sooner rather than later. 

How close Emma had come to giving up, she would never know for sure. Just that she had been close, far too close to it. She was crying more and more, not so much for herself, but for the dream parents she was giving up on, the unconditional love and protection she had hoped for all of her life. She was only fourteen years of age, and already almost completely without hope. And still she sat on her windowsill, gazing up at the sky, while her many foster siblings slept and wished with all her might for things to be different. For her to have a real family, with people who loved and cared for her, who would protect her, who would help her to be her best and her brightest. 

Emma wasn't wishing for more than that. She certainly wasn't hoping for excitement and adventure of any kind. Fun was a foreign concept to the sad girl that she had become. Emma had only wanted love and security, to not only feel safe but to BE it. With her dying hopes, Emma wished as hard as she could, her eyes never straying from the midnight star. 

She didn't know WHY her wish was finally answered. Or why salvation came in the form of a boy who looked maybe a year older than Emma was. Of course, under NORMAL circumstances, Emma would never have come close to trusting a boy so close to her own age, be he family or a stranger. She knew all too well the dangers of boys, of how cruel and perverse they could be. But then it was not every day you met a boy who came on the wings of a wish, literally flying to her window from the direction of the midnight star. 

Already half dazzled by the magic and mystery surrounding him, Emma had still been wary enough to back away from the window. She hadn't screamed, but then neither did she move to invite him inside. Her eyes had surely been two wide saucer plates, staring at the boy, in his strange clothing, the outfit so far removed from the jeans and T-shirts that were so in fashion among the young boys of her world. 

As if the flying and the clothing wasn't peculiar enough, he had a kind look in his eyes, a smile that was warm and ready to flash. He looked like the kindly older brother she might have been wishing for, truly holding no malice in his thoughts or his actions. That alone might have raised her hackles, for Emma had known that sometimes the most cruelest of intents could and did hide behind a friendly smile. But again, she was blinded, be it by the midnight star's magic, the boy, or even her own desperate need for a savior. 

It wasn't just that Emma wanted to believe, she NEEDED to. Her hope so close to crumbling, her situation worsening day by day, Emma was desperate for an out. That boy seemed to represent it, and while she wouldn't have gone anywhere with a regular boy her own age, one of magic and mystery? She just might be willing to place her future in his hands. 

Only fourteen years of age, her options so extremely limited, Emma Swan didn't need to do nearly as much thinking as one would have expected. Especially when she noticed the companion sitting on the boy's shoulder, a tiny little female, with iridescent wings, and dressed in a curvy clingy green leaf of a dress. Eyes already so big and dazzled, Emma let out a delighted laugh to see the faerie. Then instantly cringed in fear. No one came to investigate the sound, and later Emma would learn that it was the faerie who was actually a pixie, who had used her magic to place a silencing spell over the household. 

It was that same magic, in the form of pixie dust, that was sprinkled over an excited Emma. That first time? Emma could only levitate a few inches off the floor, having few if any happy thoughts and memories to draw upon, to power the flight spell. It was actually a small miracle that she could even manage that much, the pixie pouting at the waste of her magic while the boy had given Emma a sad look of understanding. She wasn't the first miserable child he had encountered, nor was she likely to be the last. The sad and downtrodden, the abused and miserable, they were the ones who called out for a rescue. For a savior to fly down and spirit them away, which was in effect what Emma had been wishing for night after night. She didn't get it in the form of loving parents, but maybe just maybe the boy and his pixie companion would prove better than a mother or a father could ever be. 

Emma had wanted to believe in the boy, in the magic, and in the midnight star. A belief so strong, it allowed her to summon her courage, to allow the boy to lift her up into surprisingly strong arms. Emma wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, and just like that they were off, the pixie and her dust trailing behind them at a much slower speed. 

It was frightening to be so high, to travel so fast in the night sky. But more than that it was exciting, exhilarating, and it made Emma's heart race. Her arms tightened around the boy, Emma not yet able to fully trust that she wouldn't be dropped. But though she clung to the boy with all her might, Emma never once closed her eyes, watching with an avid fascination how the grimy city looked when seen from up above. 

A path was zig zagged through the city, the boy heading towards the midnight star. The second star from the right, it took flying until nearly morning before they were able to reach it. Emma actually gasped when they drew close enough to the midnight star for her to make out another world. A world that had a tiny continent of land, with several smaller islands surrounding it, and oceans as far as the eye could see. A landscape that was beautiful even at a distance, and growing closer and closer, Emma being carried through the mist of the clouds, until they broke free of the white foamy film, and were just there, floating serenely through the early dawn sky. 

Emma was beyond dazzled, she was overwhelmed by all that she had seen and experienced in so short a time. She clung even more to the boy, feeling as though she might just faint at any moment. The loud boom of what she assumed was a firecracker, startled Emma out of that fainting feeling. The boy suddenly jerked backwards, his arms around Emma a tight, secure grip. She didn't doubt for one moment, gasping as she saw the cannon ball careen through the sky, just missing them both. 

Frightened, Emma turned towards where she thought the cannon ball had come from. The firecracker of sound was heard again, Emma spying the ships, watching as the round black objects grew bigger in size, as cannon ball after cannon ball was fired their way. They were under attack, and Emma was too shocked to scream, to do anything more than cling to the boy as he made a game of dodging the cannon balls. 

It was at this point the pixie caught up to them, her voice a high pitched chatter that was impossible to hear over the repeated sound of the cannon balls being fired. The boy actually laughed, Emma feeling his amusement shake through her. The pixie continued to chatter until she was red face, leaving Emma with the distinct feeling she was chastising the boy for what she might feel was reckless behavior. 

Dodging more of the cannon fire, the boy then took off not towards the ships, but towards the forested area of the main continent of land. A forest so big, it took up nearly three quarters of the land, and made it near impossible for the people on the ships to find them once the boy dropped down beneath the treetops. 

Emma relaxed only marginally once they were out of sight of the ships. A few of the cannons fired off several more times, perhaps in frustration of their lost quarry. Emma shivered at the sound of the cannon balls launching, but soon lost herself to the odd sight of how tall the trees of this forest really were. Tall enough that if one were to fall from a branch, one would surely be squashed flatter than a pancake on the ground! 

Again Emma clung to the boy who took off at an even faster speed. The pixie was in hot pursuit, her dust an angry red. She couldn't keep up with the boy's speed, and would have been lost to Emma's eyes, if not for the glow of her pixie dust. 

It was another zig zagging flight, though this time it felt infinitely more scary. The boy could have crashed at any moment into one of the many trees that made up the canopy of the forest, and yet he avoided them all, sometimes at the last second, until finally he came across a glade, with the remarkable sight of a house almost half as tall as the trees it was made out of. 

It wasn't a house like any Emma was used to, reminding her more of the rickety, shoddily made tree house of the family that had fostered her when she was ten. But where that tree house had been small, and dangerously close to falling apart at it's seams, this one was huge, looking well made and sturdy. With many windows, and colorful bits of cloth streaming out of them. With no discernable door, the windows too high up to permit entry to anyone approaching from the ground. 

Still staring at the house, Emma was startled anew when the boy let out a loud, bird like noise. And just like that, hatches in large stumps on the ground opened, young children pouring out of them. Younger then Emma, and all male, the boys gave excited shouts, waving and jumping up and down in a boisterous display of greeting. 

Suddenly shy and uncertain, Emma didn't tighten her grip on the boy who carried her. The boy who was lowering them to the ground, right amidst the excited group of male children. 

"Peter, Peter!" Many of them shouted in excitement. 

"Peter, you've finally brought her!" Others cried. 

"Is it her? Is it really her?" Some wanted to know. And then the hand of what had to be the smallest boy, tugged on the fabric of Emma's pajama bottoms. 

"Are you really going to be our mommy?" 

Emma had no idea what to say to that, her jaw dropping open in her shock. If the boy, who she was now pretty sure was named Peter, hadn't been holding her, she would have swayed then collapsed amidst the group of boys. 

"Tinkerbelle!" Came a new round of excited exclamations. The pixie had finally caught up to them, looking even redder in her anger. She circled around the boy Peter's head, carefully dusting him with pixie dust, before coming to land on Emma's shoulder. Emma didn't know why, but the boy scowled at the pixie. 

The youngest boy was still waiting for an answer, his green eyes looking close to tears, his lower lip trembling. He repeated his shocking question, and Emma had no idea what to say to him. 

"It's too much." The pixie, Tinkerbelle announced. "You are going to overwhelm the poor girl before she's even settled in." 

Peter gave a sheepish look, shrugging his shoulders slightly. But before he could say anything, Emma was speaking. 

"Okay, could someone explain to me just what is going on? Why I am here, wherever here even is..." She didn't outright ask about the boys, knowing the look of orphans when she saw them. They all had the same look in their eyes, a look Emma had seen a thousand times in her own reflection in the mirror. A sad, lost look, a desperate yearning for love and affection and all the good things a parent was supposed to give a child. 

"This is Neverland." The boy Peter finally spoke after a moment's hesitation. "A world where one's most desperate wishes can come true." 

"We've been waiting for you Emma." Added the pixie Tinkerbelle. "Waiting for a long time." 

"For me?" Emma couldn't help but be suspicious. 

"For someone like you." Peter hastily amended. "For someone kind and caring, for someone who needed to be loved, for someone who wanted to be part of a real family..." 

"That could have been anyone." Emma pointed out, already trying to shift free of Peter's arms. 

"It takes a special person to be able to come to Neverland." Peter informed her. "A special person with the right mind set and circumstance to be able to believe in the magic and the land." 

"So in other words you needed someone desperate?" Emma demanded. The silence that greeted her statement, was answer enough but when Emma tried to get free of Peter's arms, he just held on more firmly. 

"It had to be you." He insisted, staring deep into Emma's eyes. She wasn't sure why, but a shiver went down her spine. Maybe at the sense of urgency when he spoke, the sense of sureness he had in his stated words. Or maybe Emma simply wanted to believe she was that needed, that she more than an orphan, or a chance encounter. That she was special and important and most of all required. 

But as needed as she wanted to actually be, Emma couldn't quite make a commitment just yet. She was simply too wary, not to mention too young to be anyone's mother let alone a brood of orphaned children. 

"I need time to think." Emma announced, and this time Peter let her pull out of his arms. "Alone." She added, when it looked like he and the orphaned children would follow her. 

For one second Peter frowned, a hard light in his eyes. It was gone so fast, Emma thought she had imagined it, and yet it still it put her on edge. As did the children, the youngest looking at her with tears on his cheeks, asking loudly to Peter why Emma did not want to be their mother. 

Emma didn't stick around to hear what possible answer or reassurance Peter could give the child. She was already making for the glade's far end, doing her best to not outright run from Peter and the children. Her upset was escalating, Emma feeling certain her desperate wish had gotten warped and misconstrued. She let her upset and confusion blind her senses, making her unaware of the fact that eyes watched her from the trees, tracking her increasingly frantic run.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued Of Course....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more a prologue than anything. Still have to do some world building/setting things up before we get to the main premise of the story. Frankly I'm shocked I wrote this all in one night, and on so little sleep. Though I think I'll save proofreading and spell checking for tomorrow when I've rested. 
> 
> No title yet...and I also have to make some kind of announcement. I can't and won't promise to always be a quick updater with this or any of my stories at this time. I am having medical problems that affect my concentration to write depending on my pain levels.....I'm doubly amazed I got this prologue chapter finished in one night, because with the way I've been feeling, it takes forever to be able to write a single chapter. And yes, I know I owe a certain sequel for the Hook Emma faction. I really want to get at least a few chapters written before the new season starts, but with the way I'm feeling, it might be a pipe dream. I do intend to work on it though...but who knows. 
> 
> As for this idea, it's a mix of things. Once Upon A Time of course, but also a little of a movie (which might spoil something I intend to do so won't say the movie name at this time.) and a book that I haven't read, but came across by pure chance on Amazon, and was inspired by the back cover blurb about what the book was supposed to be about. 
> 
> This is ultimately meant to be a Hook Emma fic, but I hope we're all along for the ride to see how it happens. Though maybe my as of yet unwritten summary blurb will give you some idea of what is meant to happen. 
> 
> This is of course, almost a total AU too...I doubt Emma ever makes it to Storybrooke in this universe...^^:; Unless it's at the very end...which is so far in the future...^^;; 
> 
> I also want to thank my friend Huntress, who got to read the draft up to when Peter first arrived to Emma's window. I was unsure of a line, and she only shared my concerns. (It had to do with trusting Peter too easily.) The line was ultimately trashed, since it really didn't sit well with either of us, and I was able to write the rest of the encounter hopefully much improved. Thanks hon! :)
> 
> \---Michelle


	2. Two

It didn't take long for Emma Swan to become hopelessly lost. As lost physically as she felt spiritually, abandoned by the world, her parents, maybe even a God she wasn't quite sure that she even believed in. Let down by life, by her hopes and disappointed time and time again, Emma was awash with sadness, with confusion, and with even a bitter anger. Far too used to things being unfair, and wondering why she was reacting so harshly to something that shouldn't have surprised her, Emma was still upset over it. Be it an upset that had to do with the boy Peter, the brood of children that had surrounded her earlier, or even with herself for daring to believe in her wish coming true, Emma didn't know. But she felt betrayed, tricked, maybe even used. And all because she wasn't ready to be a mother, wasn't ready to be depended on by anyone, let alone a whole horde of young children. 

Children who had looked at her like she was their last chance at salvation, who had been hungry for her acceptance, who had acted like they needed her. Emma wasn't able to trust in that need of theirs, far too suspicious to believe they were the answer to all her problems and she to theirs. Even as she felt that same yearning, that desire to have a loving mother who adored and coddled her, who supported and took care of her, Emma couldn't match her needs to that of those boys. 

It was her young mind rebelling, her self preserving instincts flaring, Emma far too hurt and damaged by the abuse she had suffered at the hands of the many people in her short life. What maternal instincts she might have had, were all but snuffed out, Emma unable to give what she herself had never received but had always wanted. That alone let her know she was unfit for the role Peter and the boys would have her fill, Emma not even able to pretend at being a mother. 

Positive she was broken beyond repair, Emma ran. Away from Peter and Tinkerbelle, away from the young boy's teary eyes, away from the oddly delightful looking house in the forest glade. She ran from the opportunity they had given her, being swallowed up instead by the dark forest while letting her thoughts consume her, blind and numb Emma to her surroundings. 

Scratched up by thorny bushes, her pajama bottoms getting ripped and torn in her flight, Emma barely noted the pain of her injuries due to how much she hurt inside. No destination in mind, she just wanted to get away before her wish twisted even more, and sent new waves of disappointments to her. 

She didn't even have a plan. Didn't have any idea of her future. She didn't even try to contemplate what might happen for her inability to play mother to a group of needy orphans, the idea of being brought back to her foster family simply to awful a fear to consider. Emma just kept running, and maybe she would have run for just short of forever, if not for her foot hitting something. That something not only caused her to stumble, it sent Emma crashing down to her knees in a shallow pool of water. 

That water was cold, sending a shock wave through her, bringing her out of the thoughts and fears, the very despair that Emma had been locking herself into. None of her confusion or disappointment faded, but she now was able to think enough to be aware of some her surroundings. And realize how very alone she now was. 

The forest was so dark around her, only a few sliver thin shafts of sunlight made it through the trees' leafy canopy. Shadows and dark spots were everywhere, and she heard the noise of the forest. The sounds of the animals that lurked within, many of them making such fiercesome sound, horrendous growls, and otherwise scary noises. Emma shivered, wondering how, IF anyone would ever be able to find her, if even Peter and his pixie could. Emma also wondered if she even wanted to be found, if it wouldn't be better for everyone if Emma simply didn't disappear. 

She almost started crying then, Emma staring down at the water that she knelt in. Part of a pond, the first of it's kind Emma had ever seen, it's settling surface was glassy like a mirror. Her reflection was there, peering up with more hurt and sadness than any fourteen year old should have ever known. The first tear actually slipped, plopping into the water, sending ripples outward. Emma angrily brushed her fist over her wet eyes, wiping at them to stop any more tears from falling, her wet hand inadvertently smearing the dirty smudges she always kept in place. 

She looked at herself, with her messily short cropped hair, the blonde locks having been shorn by Emma's own hand in a desperate attempt at disguise and defense. Her face was streaked with faint smudges of dirt. Her skin was paler than it should be, and shock couldn't amount to all of it. Her fingernails were ragged from where she had constantly chewed at them, her pajama bottoms and the very loose T-shirt that she wore, torn from when she had been running wildly through the forest. 

The girl stared at the image that she presented, and wondered how anyone, even a boy as young as the one who had nearly cried, could possibly mistake her for mother material. Even if she did clean herself up, Emma knew she would never make for a good mother. How could the girl be something she herself had never experienced? How could a tomboy like her, one who had scorned and shunned dolls, even hope to pretend a skill set that she simply didn't have? 

Feeling useless, downright worthless, Emma slammed a fist into the water, sending larger ripples through the pond. And then she was splashing at her face, desperate to get the grime off, to wash away who she was, to find out who she really wanted to be, who Emma was meant to be. She splashed so hard, so viciously, she was unaware of anything else. Certainly Emma didn't notice the boy's approach, not until he grabbed at her, Emma screaming loudly in surprise, in anger, and then in real fear as something that looked like a crocodile lunged out of the water, snapping it's great big jaws right where she had just been kneeling. 

Shocked and gasping for breath, Emma realized that the boy who had grabbed her, was still dragging her further back into the forest. For a few more stunned seconds, she let him, Emma far too grateful to him to let hersuspicions rise. And then her own self preserving instincts kicked in, Emma shouting, struggling, scratching ragged nails over the arm that was clamped over her chest. 

The boy let out a surprised sound of his own, then let pain fuel his snarl as he violently shoved her away from him. Emma stumbled, nearly fell, but whirled around, her fists coming up as she prepared to defend herself. But blows never fell, this boy who was NOT Peter, standing a few feet back. He was glaring at her, holding a hand over his arm where she had scratched him, and Emma couldn't help but feel proud that she had drawn blood with her attack. 

Other details began to register, Emma realizing the boy was her age or older, and dressed in patchy green and brown clothing that was similar to what Peter had worn. Such colors allowed him to camouflage easily in the forest. His hair was that odd shade of blonde that could almost be mistaken for a very light brown, and he had a dusting of freckles on his cheeks and bridge of his nose. 

His eyes which were as gray as steel, were narrowed with a glare, the boy giving her the once over and looking like she didn't measure up to whatever he had expected. Instantly Emma stood straighter, her own eyes flashing, her hackles raised at the idea of the boy finding her lacking. Even worse was the intolerable idea that he might have seen her trying not to cry, Emma clenching her fists harder in upset. 

"Are you stupid, or just a complete airhead?" The boy broke their quiet glaring match, still rubbing at the scratches on his arm. 

"Neither!" Emma bit out, wanting to hit him just for that insulting question. 

"You have to be one or the other." The boy argued. "To go running through the forest, and make as much racket as you did in the water." 

"You were watching me?!" Emma demanded, angry and aghast at the thought. 

"And a damn good thing I was!" The boy’s rough language wasn't anything that made Emma wince. She had heard far worse words used by the older boys who had been her bullying foster brothers. "Otherwise you'd be crocodile lunch right about now!" 

She didn't quite blush, but an embarrassed warmth flooded Emma's face all the same. Because like it or not, the boy was right, she had nearly been eaten by the crocodile. But she was also too angry to play at being grateful, or to thank him for the much needed rescue. 

"Only a complete airhead, or idiot would linger that long in crocodile pond." The boy added. "Everyone knows that!" 

"Not everyone!" Emma argued. "Not me! Where I come from, crocodiles don't live in ponds, ducks do!" 

Emma thought that would shut him up, or at least make him stop insinuating that she was a airhead. She was wrong, the boy scowling at her. 

"Well you're not there anymore, and this place can be dangerous." 

"Can be?" She demanded. 

"Can be if you're not smart like me." The boy told her. He lifted a hand to the blonde brown mix that was his hair, with a gesture that was clearly agitated. "What was Peter thinking, letting you run off on your own?!" 

"You know Peter?" Emma asked, uneasy at the thought that this boy might have watched and followed her all the way from the glade. "Why were you following me?!" She added, after the boy had nodded to her first question. 

He let out a long suffering sigh. "Someone had too. If Peter won't take responsibility for his messes..." 

"I am not a mess!" Emma snapped, having lowered her fists enough to place them on her hips. 

"Then what are you?" The boy asked, leaving Emma to blink owlishly. 

"I'm...I'm Emma." She ended up saying. 

"I didn't ask for your name." The boy retorted, then moved closer. She took a step back, because the boy was truly tall, looming over her much like an adult could. "Just a kid.." His lip curled. "You don't know anything of Neverland, or of the responsibilities that will be expected of you." 

"I." 

"Careful Jacob." A new voice from behind her said in warning. "You're sounding dangerously like an adult." 

The boy in front of her, this Jacob, lost his scowl, actually seeming almost scared now. Emma could relate, not knowing where to look to, if she should remain facing the boy in front of her, or if she should turn towards the other, to Peter. Either choice would leave her back exposed to at least one boy, and right now Emma couldn't stand the thought, feeling menaced and frightened by both this Jacob and the boy Peter who had brought her to this strange forest in the first place. 

"What have you been telling our Emma?" Peter demanded, settling some of Emma's anxieties by coming to stand beside her, rather than at her back. But his choice of wording upset her, Emma giving a quick, fierce glare to the boy, and the pixie that sat on his shoulder. 

"I'm not your anything!" She snapped. 

Eyes never losing their warm look, Peter took her defiance all in good stride. "Of course." Was all he said to her, then looked past her at that other boy who still seemed so frightened. "Well, Jacob?" 

This Jacob seemed to pull himself together. "She was almost eaten." He said, scowling. "Because you let her run off!" 

"Emma needed time to think." 

"She could have done it back at the house!" snapped Jacob. 

"I...I needed time alone." Emma spoke up. "It's not Peter's fault.." 

Jacob looked like he wanted to argue, but his lips firmed together, the boy holding back whatever he had meant to say. A sharp look was exchanged between Jacob and Peter, before the taller boy took a step back. "I have work to do." He announced. "I trust I won't be needing to do anymore last minute saving?" 

"I've got her safety well in hand." retorted Peter. Jacob nodded stiffly, then tensed. "Remember, Jacob." Peter's tone was soft, but held another note of warning to it. "All work and no play is a dangerous path to take..." 

"I don't have time for fun and games." Jacob retorted. "Someone has to remain on alert to the dangers of Neverland." 

"Dangers?" Emma started to say, then nearly jumped in surprise when Jacob took off flying. "Can everyone in Neverland fly?!" 

Peter was still gazing after Jacob with narrowed eyes. It was the pixie on his shoulder who answered for him. "Everyone can with enough happy thoughts and memories, and a generous sprinkling of pixie dust." 

Emma couldn't help it, she instantly felt sad, wondering if she would ever have enough happy thoughts to be able to fly higher than a few inches off the ground. 

Tinkerbelle noticed. "Oh sweetie..." She said, and flew over towards Emma. "Give us time, and I'm sure you can learn what it means to feel happy." The tiny pixie woman glanced at Peter. "Right, Peter?" 

He seemed to shake, as though Peter was shrugging off whatever private thoughts Jacob had stirred within him. "Right, Tink." He turned his complete attention to the two females, smiling at Emma. But Emma couldn't return his smile, feeling a complexity of emotions, the least of which was a whole lot of uncertainty. 

"Why did you bring me here?" Emma asked again. "Because those boys need a mother?" 

"Because YOU needed us." Was Peter's answer. 

"I don't know about that..." Emma shifted uncomfortable, and Tinkerbelle flew towards her face, wagging a pointed finger at her. 

"Didn't you wish for a family? For a family that would love and care for you, make you feel safe and protected?" 

"I wished for a mother and father!" Emma protested. 

"Family comes in all shapes and sizes." Tinkerbelle pointed out. "What does it matter if it's a mother or a father, or a bunch of brothers who give you the love and caring you so crave?" 

"I don't...I'm not sure..." 

"Why would you even cling to the ideas of having a mother and a father?" Peter asked. "When it was a mother and a father who abandoned you in the first place. Who abandoned ALL of the lost boys?" 

"The lost boys?" 

"Jacob and the others, the children waiting back at the glade." Peter clarified. "Every single one of them orphans, unloved, unwanted by those that should have revered them over all other." 

"The lost boys know all about being abandoned, about craving a family." added Tinkerbelle. "They take care of each other, love each other, but there's an element missing..." 

"An element you can fill, Emma." Peter told her. 

"By being their mother?" Emma shook her head no. "I don't, I can't..." She shivered, hugging her arms around her. "I can't take care of anyone, I can barely take care of myself, let alone another and especially not in a scary land like this one." 

"Neverland CAN be scary, but it is also a land of wonder. Of beauty and never ending fun." Peter told her, and reached out a hand to her. A hand Emma didn't take, instead just staring at it. "Give us a chance Emma. Give ME a chance." 

"A chance to do what?" Emma whispered. 

"To show you Neverland. To convince you of it's wonder, and how it will be the perfect fit for you." 

Still so uncertain, Emma began to chew nervously at her bottom lip, all the while staring at Peter's hand. 

"Please." He added, and gave her an encouraging smile. 

"What do you have to lose, sweetie?" Tinkerbelle asked, and that decided things for Emma. Because there was really nothing left to her, and maybe just maybe she stood everything to gain if Peter could convince her of Neverland and the family that was just waiting for her to claim them. 

"All right." She said, and reached for his hand. It took more courage than Emma would ever admit to, and there was also a healthy dose of excitement coursing through her. She didn't want to give herself over to it, knowing too well how easily it and her hopes could be dashed. Knowing that, she still let Peter pick her up, Emma still unable to fly on her own. 

This time Tinkerbelle chose to sit on Emma's shoulder, rather than chase after Peter's much faster flying. When Emma grew nervous at Peters' seemingly reckless and erratic navigation through the forest, Tinkerbelle whispered reassurances in her ear. 

"Don't worry Emma. Peter knows this forest like he does his own hands." 

Those hands were carefully holding her, in place on her body in spots that could in no way be deemed inappropriate. It was so different from what she knew, Emma's only true experience with boys her own age or older, was that of being groped at, hit and molested, and even called names like bitch or worse. Peter treated her gently, didn't grab at her ass, and had never once called her a name or insulted her. It was strange, but nice Emma decided, and if she could have trusted more, she would have been willing to believe Peter would always be like this. 

As Peter continued to behave, to treat her nicely, Emma began to relax. By the time they reached the mermaid's lagoon, Emma was nearly smiling. Peter flew her out to the middle of the lagoon, hovering over the waters. Water that was clear enough for her to see below it's rippling surface, Emma first shocked, then delighted and amazed to see honest to goodness mermaids swimming about with the fish and other marine life. 

No mermaids came close to broaching the surface of the water. Emma didn't think it strange that the sight of a flying boy and human girl might make the mermaids too nervous to come near. But at least the unicorn that came to drink at the lagoon, was calm enough at Peter's approach, that Emma was allowed to touch it's silky white mane. 

Never so girlish as to have dreamt of rainbows and unicorns, Emma was still enchanted by the great horned horse before her. It wasn't like anything like the few pictures she had seen of the one time thought imaginary beast, not wispy thin and pretty, but sturdy and strong, and several times larger than a horse of the human realm. Next to it, Emma wouldn't have been able to reach high enough to touch it's mane, not without Peter holding her up off the ground. 

There were other creatures to see. some similar to the ones of Emma's world, but many considered fictional, imaginary, not real. Here in Neverland they were, and Emma was amazed, delighted, even scared of the more fierce, and possibly dangerous beasts they came across. Especially that of the dragon. 

It wasn't just beasts that Peter showed her. There were people living here in Neverland. She got to meet the pixie tribe who were otherwise scared of humans, but allowed Emma to come close enough because she was with their friend Peter. It was explained to her, that humans, pirates especially, hunted the pixies for their magic, for the dust that would allow them to fly. The pixies refused to share with those fiends, and many of their kind had been killed in retaliation by the pirates. 

The pirates were the ones who had shot at Peter and Emma earlier in the day. They were the one group out of all the people, the elves, the Indians, the pixies and the dwarves, that Peter didn't bring Emma to for an introduction. Pirates were dangerous, as Peter told her, not to be trusted, and to be avoided at all costs by Emma. 

Remembering how the pirates had fired cannon balls when unprovoked at her and Peter, Emma could only take to heart his warning. Those pirates seemed scary, maybe as bad as the adults that had been a part of her various foster families, none of who she wanted to return to. 

Peter told her some about the lost boys, including about Jacob and the others closer to his age. The older boys had more duties and responsibilities, guarding the forest from pirates, playing at being look out, and hunting down food. But Peter was careful to insist on them alternating tasks, on taking a break from their duties, switching out every day so that they all had time to play, to be the children they were at heart. 

Peter's face seemed to darken when Emma pointed out Jacob hadn't acted very child like. "Jacob has almost forgotten what it's like to be a child." Peter told her, and for some reason that made her shiver. As did the next thing Peter said, the boy urging Emma to never forget that herself. 

"I'm not sure I've ever been able to be a child." Emma confessed, as they sat high up on the branches of one tree. "I certainly don't know how to act one..." 

"The lost boys will help you." Peter assured her. "They'll help you to remember what was lost, to help you rediscover that childlike joy and wonder that had been denied to you." 

It sounded wonderful, so wonderful that Emma nearly started crying then and there. Peter seemed uncomfortable with her tears, but it made sense. In a place like Neverland, where children were supposed to always be happy and at play, there was no room for tears and sniffles. It was a dreamlike existence, a place of wonder and happiness, of excitement and adventure, and yes a little bit of danger too. Emma was falling in love with the idea of Neverland, had all but come to a decision when he brought her back to the glade with the giant tree house. 

This time the young boys didn't swarm her, though the youngest of the bunch nervously approached her. Seeing the sight of tears in his eyes, Emma felt bad to know that she was at least partly responsible for making this boy s sad. She knelt down to be eye level with the child, the boy not daring to repeat the question he had asked upon their first.

"I can't be your mother." She told him gently, brushing her fingers over his dampening cheek. "I don't know how. But..." She hesitated just a second, brushing aside a feeling of wrongness because what could be wrong with Neverland and the decision she was about to voice? "But I can be your big sister." 

"Is a big sister better than a mother?" The little boy asked, and Emma grinned. 

"Oh, a big sister is a million times better than that!" 

The little boy looked awed at the thought, and immediately wanted to know what a big sister could do. 

"Big sisters play games, build forts, and have fun." She told him, and he looked worried then. 

"Do big sisters give baths, read stories, and make their little brothers eat their vegetables?" 

"No, that's a mother's job." Emma answer made the child grin so wide, she though his face would split from his smile. 

"I think I'm gonna like having a big sister then!" The boy said, and the other children approached, voicing questions of their own. Questions Emma answered with positives, a resounding cheer going up in the glade as the boys moved to pile on in as a group huddle around Emma, welcoming her as their new family, the big sister they had never known they had wanted. 

The boys would want to do more to welcome their new big sister, to celebrate her arrival and decision to stay. But Emma's energy was at last winding down, the girl not having slept in hours. To the disappointed aws of the boys around her, Tinkerbelle ordered them all to bed, the tiny pixie seeming to take well to bossing the family around. 

Emma was shown to a room of her own, a tiny alcove separated by a curtain from the bedroom of the boys. It was high up in the tree, and had a small round window carved into the wood, allowing her to peer out into the forest. She couldn't see the sky let alone any stars, and that made her feel a little sad, but she still whispered a private thank you to the largest, most sparkly, most magical star that she had ever known. The midnight star, whose lands she was now a part of. 

It all felt like a dream, a miracle, and Emma prayed she wouldn't wake to a cold reality. She didn't want to find out Neverland was not real, that she was still stuck as an unwanted child in a terribly abusive foster family's home. She would quietly cry in the morning, when she did awake still snug in the alcove's bed, and the boys would soon pile in to comfort and make her laugh. There were too many names to learn all at once, but in time Emma would learn all of them, and the likes and personalities of each of her brothers, both big and small. She'd go on to have great fun with them, to learn the ins and outs of the forest, how to navigate it and it's few dangers. She had adventures, and learned to be happy and to fly. She learned practically every nook and cranny of the large forest, made friends with the Indian tribes, who traded with Peter and the lost boys their food and their clothing. 

Emma flourished with the Lost Boys, no longer hiding herself under dirt and loose clothing. Her blonde hair grew out, almost down to the small of her back, and her skin took on the healthy golden glow of a tan. She loved it in Neverland, and Neverland loved her, and soon Emma lost complete track of time. 

Emma was fourteen years old when she first arrived in Neverland. And of the one hundred and fifty years that had passed since then, she had not aged one bit. Forever fourteen, forever a child, Emma couldn't think of a single good reason why she would EVER want to grow up. The girl could never ever dream that of all the people, sights, and wonders in Neverland, it would be the pirates that she avoided, that would hold the ultimate temptation to her. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay the prologue setting up is finally over. Whoo! Hook is supposed to finally get some presence in three. I still gotta figure out how to get it started, how to organize all my thoughts. I am freaking amazed I got two chapters done in so short a time. Let's hear it for pain medication working...which I am out of and my doctor hasn't called back with refill information.....X_X ( I take two kinds..only out of one kind....so I have some of the other at least, thank goodness...but I worry that without both the pain will hit bad. =/) 
> 
> But still so happy, and energized! Whoo! About to enjoy some raspberries before I spell check and proofread. XD 
> 
> Also taking title suggestions, if anyone has any they want to shoot my way. It's weird, for my Hook Emma stuff, I can never figure out a title before I start writing. Kinda drives me batty. I swear I have some weird perfectionist streak in me for the titles. 
> 
>  
> 
> Updated a fair bit on 2/15/2018!
> 
> \----Michelle


	3. Three

On a day that should have been just like any other, Emma Swan found that she had awakened with an inexplicable sense of unease. A restless, anxious feeling, the likes of which she was no longer accustomed to. The persistent worry that gnawed at her insides immediately brought up long buried memories of her best forgotten experiences as a foster child. Upsetting times where she had always been tense and afraid, and had barely known what fun was or ho to have it. Deprived of that, of laughter and joy, Emma hadn’t even known what it meant to be loved. 

She knew love now. Knew it’s warmth and it’s goodness, was so secure in it’s existence, that the worst of her unexplained fear was easily pushed aside. The unease though, was still there, that sense of forboding that something was going to happen. Something bad, something worse than the fact that Evan had gone missing. 

He wasn't the first of the lost boys, to just up and disappear one night. Nor did a sad Emma in any way think he would be the last. It was simple inevitable, that the older boys eventually tired of being children, that they finally did the one thing forbidden Emma and the other of their lost brood. They grew up, discarding childhood dreams, forgetting how to have fun, turning their back on the love of their family. 

Adults now, they abandoned Emma and the lost boys, taking off for parts unknown. The assumption was always that they must have used the last of their pixie dust to leave Neverland. Peter didn't want to believe that, refused to give up on the boys—the men, who had abandoned their family. Each time a lost boy vanished, Peter would take the older of the family out on a search that would last days, weeks at best. And each time Peter and the other Lost Boys would return empty handed. 

Lost boys had been growing up and leaving for as long as Emma could remember, starting with Jacob, the surly mouthed teen she had first met by the pond. Acting much older than a Lost Boy should, Jacob was the one who had saved Emma from the crocodile and called her an airhead her first day in Neverland. He had seem annoyed with her, agitated, and had explicitly ignored Peter's warnings of what would happen if he didn't take more time to enjoy himself with play. 

Emma hadn't gotten to know Jacob very well. Certainly not enough to cry over him when he had disappeared a scant three days later. But there were other lost boys, friends and brothers she had loved and held dear. Those who had disappeared that she had actually cared for enough to mourn, her young heart hurting as though those brothers had died. In a way they actually had, having chosen to become mean old adults who no longer cared for Emma and the children who had once been their only family. 

Not understanding why anyone would want to grow up, Emma always swore to herself that the same thing would not happen to her. She threw herself harder into play, into having fun, into enjoying herself the way only a child could. She kept herself and the younger lost boys busy, distracting them from their loss. She'd take them on field trips, sometimes to the lagoon to hide among the bushes and listen to the mermaids' songs. Other times they would visit the Indian Tribe, dressed up in their native garb, and play with the sons and daughters there. Sometimes they would tease the mean old dragon, who in his very advance age of a half a million years, was no longer fast enough to do anything but snap jaws at the empty air where they had been. 

Sometimes they wouldn't visit anyone, just play amongst themselves in the forest. Tag and ball, hide and a go seek, skating on the crocodile’s pond when the water had iced over. They'd hold mock battles, fighting it out amongst each other for the right to sit back and relax while the losers made a sloppy dinner for them all to enjoy. 

With the younger lost boys, it was almost always fun and games. Not like with the older ones, the teenage ones. Those who had responsibilities, which was a dangerous cliff edge to straddle. Someone had to look out for, to take care of and provide for the younger children, but in doing so, it made the teenagers start to take on adult like qualities. Peter tried to thwart their growing up, by making them play every other day, and for the most part it worked. But every once in a while, someone like Jacob or the now missing Evan, grew up any way. 

Emma never got used to it when one of the lost boys left them permanently. It always made her just so awfully sad, which made Peter angry, and ever more determined to find those who had gone missing. If only to make them apologize to Emma! The younger of the lost boys, made it their mission to distract her from her sadness, to make her laugh and be happy. They didn't want their big sister crying, wanted to see instead her bright, happy smile. 

This day however, with the unease in her heart, Emma had found herself faking that good cheer. Not even the pillow fight that had erupted that morning, that had ended in an explosion of feathers, had worked to make her forget her unease. She pretended otherwise, not understanding, not realizing that this wasn't going to be just another ordinary if fun day, but the ushering in of the start of the next important phase in her life. 

Emma might have felt better if Peter had been around for her to share her worries to. But with Evan missing, Peter had been gone for three days already, searching with the oldest of the lost boys for their runaway brother. No one had much hope that Evan would be found, let alone still as a child, but Peter found it hard to let go. He wouldn't stop searching until absolutely sure there was no way Evan would be coming back, which meant Peter might be gone for another week at the very least. 

With no one to talk to, not even one of her other, older brothers, Emma tried to let the younger of the lost boys keep her distracted. But she was too tense to truly enjoy herself, her restless energy finally driving her to call an impromptu sword practice. It was the one kind of class the lost boys truly liked, enjoying practicing their skill with a sword in the hopes it would make them better at their games of mock war, make teasing mean old mister dragon more fun, and help them win against the pirates who plagued Neverland. 

The lost boys that remained with Emma, were far too young to train with steel, and most were too innocent to realize the difference between a real sword and a wooden one. Emma played at dueling with the boys, working out some of her tension through the handling of the wooden sword she currently borrowed. Emma wasn't about to use her very real steel blade against the younger boys' wooden ones. Neither did she use her full skill as an aspiring talent against these young ones, Emma not wanting to discourage them with how easily this girl could disarm them with a simple twist of her wrist. 

Instead, she was in the process of letting the youngest of the lost boys, a child named Bradley, disarm her when a commotion sounded. With just a word from Emma, the lost boys were taking to the sky, nervous but excited, ready to dart into the house just in case the worst had happened, and the secret glade had been discovered. 

Emma who had tossed down the wooden practice sword, was already drawing the steel blade from the scabbard at her side. Ready to defend her family and home, the tension she felt surged stronger, winding her up tighter than a turned corkscrew. So tense was Emma that she might have made the first attacking move, if not for the bird call that sang out from the far end of the glade. A bird call that came almost too late, as though the one who had made it was too panicked to remember the secret signals that Peter insisted all the lost children use. 

Some but not all of Emma relaxed, her sword arm lowering as she drew near to the frantic boys who ran instead of flew into the glade. Their clothes were torn, having snagged on branches and on bush thorns, and at least one of them was hiccupping repeatedly, a wide eyed frightened look in his eyes. 

"What has happened!?" Emma demanded, doing a quick head count of the eight boys, and coming up short by one. "Where is Galen?" 

"Pirates!" Came the exclamation, an answer Emma was in no way prepared to want to hear. "Pirates took Galen to their ship!" 

Going as pale as those boys, Emma felt as though the ground beneath her feet swayed. And all because the pirates had Galen, a sentence she took to be the absolute truth because no lost boy would ever lie about something so serious where the pirates were concerned. 

"How did this happen?" Emma blurted out, more frightened than angry. "What were you doing near the pirates?! You were supposed to be chasing rainbows!" 

Chasing rainbows, a popular past time among the lost boys, was an activity about finding the treasure hidden at the end of the rainbow. Never in Emma's one hundred and fifty years in Neverland, had anyone come close to finding the rainbow's end, or it's treasure, and yet the lost boys NEVER gave up on trying. 

There was a moment of pause, the boys shifting about to not look Emma in the eyes. They weren't scared of her anger, but they were embarrassed to admit to their mistake. The one who couldn't stop making that hiccupping sound, managed to say something about chasing the rainbow near to a shore where the pirates had come aground to hunt for food and fresh water. 

"Tell me you didn't..." Emma said, aghast at the thought that any of the lost boys would be so foolish as to go near a group of dangerous pirates without Peter around for protection. 

With an awkward shuffling of their feet, the seven ten year olds embarrassedly admitting that they had done exactly that. And were just as embarrassed to admit that they had left Galen behind, rather than be caught as well. 

"What are we going to do, Emma?" asked Stuart, a boy who was nicknamed Stewy. "Peter's going to be so mad at us!" 

"Never mind Peter for now." Emma told him. "The pirates are liable to do anything to Galen, anything!" A collective shiver went through the group at that, all familiar with the stories of how mean and terrible, how scary and evil the pirates were. 

"Maybe they won't really hurt him...." ventured Daniel. 

"I cant take that chance." Emma said, having come to a decision. "And we can't wait a week or more for Peter and the others to come back....not with Galen in so immediate a danger!" 

"But...what are you saying we do?" Stewy wanted to know. 

"We're just going to have to rescue Galen ourselves." She was expecting the silence that greeted her words, and even the protests that would follow soon after. 

"But Emma, you know we're not supposed to go near the pirates..." 

Emma had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at them, to not remind them that they should have remembered that earlier. "There's no helping it." She said out loud, already making hasty flight towards the window that would lead into her private alcove bedroom. The boys ran after her, and it was then that Emma realizes something else was very wrong. The boys had been so frightened by their encounter with the pirates, they had forgotten how to be happy enough to fly! 

Fighting back curses, rummaging about her alcove, Emma found a cap to cover her long blonde hair. She had learned the hard way that in a fight, her hair was a liability, and not just because it tended to be the first thing people grabbed at. It's golden color, already so bright that it made it near impossible to hide, actually gleamed when the sunlight touched it. Emma faced a hard enough task, sneaking near to the pirates' ships, without her hair betraying her positioning! 

It would have served her better if she waited until dark, when the thick mists rolled in with the moon. Her chances at success would have been even greater if Emma would simply wait for Peter to return, but she also was positive that Galen didn't have that kind of time. He might not even have the few hours until it was dark, for the pirates were known to be ruthless, merciless humans who weren't above making a frightened child walk the plank of their ship. 

The plank wasn't the only danger that the boy faced. He could be skinned alive, tortured in so many different ways. Peter had told Emma so many horrific examples of the pirates behavior, that even she was frightened at the thought of venturing onto their ship. She actually had to stop for one second, and just sit down, her hands covering her face as Emma realized this must be the reason behind the uneasy feeling that had plagued her since she had first woken up that day. 

She had no concept of female intuition, or of destiny at work. All Emma was in the moment, brave as she could be, was scared. Not just for Galen, but for herself, because Emma had never, ever been near a pirate. It was something Peter had simply not allowed, quick to keep her safe from the most wicked of all Neverland's dangers. 

Emma had laughed the first time Peter had called the pirates wicked. The word simply hadn't inspired fear or caution, instead putting to mind a child up to something naughty. Eventually Emma would come to learn that wicked didn't have the same meaning in her world as it did in Neverland, that wicked beings like the pirates or foster families, did terribly evil things. Peter hadn't needed to paint any more of a picture than that, the foster family comparison potent enough that Emma had gladly obeyed Peter where the pirates were concerned. 

But for her family, for Galen, she would put aside her fear, would break what amounted to Peter's only and strictest rule, and attempt to stage a rescue. Emma was after all a very brave girl, even under the most trying of circumstances, and the fact that she could still fly, even after feeling such a strong surge of fear, was testament of her courage. It couldn't be said the same of the seven who had accompanied Galen on the disastrous rainbow chasing excursion, the boys literally grounded for the foreseeable future.

 

Not even pixie dust would be able to help those seven, so long as they were that frightened and guilt ridden. Which left Emma's own options limited, the girl leaving her alcove to look over the boys who could still fly. It was dismaying, downright alarming, the idea that she would have to pick someone younger than the age of ten to accompany her to the pirates' ships, but Emma wasn't stupid enough to think she could mount a rescue entirely on her own. 

Nor would the boys allow their beloved big sister to venture into danger all on her own, though she could see the fear in their eyes as they argued over who should volunteer their help. Only young Bradley wasn't afraid to step forward on his own, the thought of losing Emma more terrifying than anything the pirates could ever do to him. 

Emma smiled at the young boy, who was barely older than three, and told him of the very important job that she was giving to him. Bradley puffed out his chest with pride, his mind too slow to understand she was basically manipulating him into staying behind. All on the pretext that should Peter come back, Bradley would be the one to tell the leader of their family what had happened. 

The lost boys she finally took with her barely numbered a small handful. Of them, the youngest was six, and the oldest was eight, and Emma didn't intend to put any of them close enough to the pirates to be caught or hurt. She just wished the same could be said for her, but someone would HAVE to sneak on board the pirates' ships in order to find Galen, or what was left of him. 

With the five boys shadowing her, Emma flew faster than she had ever before dared. For once time felt as though it was closing in, as though even a single second mattered. Even with that fitful feeling of time running out, Emma couldn't afford to hurry and risk being sloppy. Galen's well being, his very life was at risk, and any mistakes would cost him dearly. 

Even knowing that, Emma still found it difficult to stop and get her bearings. She and the boys who had reluctantly volunteered, were currently hidden among the foamy white clouds of Neverland, and Deirdric jostled her elbow constantly as Emma looked through the small telescope that she had brought with her. 

"Do you see him?" Deirdric wanted to know. "Is he okay?" 

Emma made a noncommittal noise, concentrating more on scouring the ship tops. The pirates had five ships in all, and of that group, the largest was known as the Jolly Roger. It was also known as the captain's ship, and Emma wondered which of the many men aboard it might be the infamous pirate known as Hook. It was hard to distinguish features from this high up, even with the magnifying properties of the telescope. Many of the pirates were dressed in black and gray, or were even shirtless, and frankly from this high up in the clouds they all looked the same to Emma. 

"What are they doing?" Whispered Terry, as another, Louie spoke. 

"Why are they heading back to shore?" He wanted to know. 

"I'm not sure..." Emma began. "Maybe because Galen's capture interrupted their supply gathering?" 

"It's a lucky break for us then..." Deirdric was still crowding her, as though he thought to take the telescope from Emma. 

"Lucky indeed..." Emma said softly, but she didn't trust it. It felt like too much of a coincidence, too much like a trap for the pirates to be leaving the Jolly Roger so empty. But trap or no, she had to go down there, and find Galen. 

"What do we do now?" asked a nervous Terry. 

"Wait here." Emma told them, and finally handed over her telescope to Deirdric. "I'm going to go see what I can find out." 

"But Emma..." 

"Don't worry." She faked a confidant smile. "I'm too fast for any wicked old pirate to catch!" 

The looks that the boys gave her were doubting at best. Emma could only shrug at that, knowing now was not the time to waste breath on arguing. Galen was dependent on them, on HER, for a rescue, and Emma was determined to not disappoint. 

With the sound of the boys’ protests trailing after her, Emma dove through the clouds, feeling the white wispy foam clinging to her body as she flew towards the Jolly Roger. It wasn't a direct path that she took, and Emma prayed that the round about way which took her close to the ocean's surface, wouldn't take so long as for the pirates to return. 

Flying alongside the Jolly Roger, Emma began peering into the porthole windows that she then passed. She saw the incredibly messy, even more so than the lost boys' bedroom, barracks where the pirates slept. She also came across a window that showed a storeroom, with many barrels and crates of things, lined up all neat and tidy. And finally, she found Galen, the boy laying on the floor, bound and gagged, but seemingly unharmed. 

Emma was more certain than ever that this was some kind of trap, for the porthole window to the room Galen was in, was unlocked. And yet she still wiggled in through it, and hurried to Galen's side. The boy's eyes teared up to see her, and Emma put a finger to her lips to signal for quiet, as she took off Galen's gag. Telling him she was proud for his bravery, Emma began to untie the knots of the rope around his feet. 

"Can you fly?" She asked, having a difficult time of getting the knots undone. Shame faced, Galen shook his head no. "It's all right." Emma said gently, and finally resorted to using her sword to slice through the ropes. 

But it wasn't all right, Emma not in any way strong enough to lift a boy as heavy as the ten year old was. She simply didn't have the muscles of the older boys, and Galen wasn't exactly a skinny child. 

"We're gonna have to find our way top side." She told him, and Galen whispered a protest. 

"But the pirates! They'll catch us for sure!" 

"They all went to shore." Emma told him. 'IF we're quick enough, we can get gone before they even know what's happened." 

"Then let us hurry!" Galen exclaimed, already heading for the room's door. Emma was hardly surprised that the door wasn't locked, and even knowing that the pirates had left the Jolly Roger, she still found herself cringing at the noise of Galen's scurrying across creaking wooden floorboards. 

Emma herself didn't make any unwanted sounds, floating after Galen. She had her sword still in her hand, the feeling of unease continuing. Galen would continue his noisy running, the sound so loud it helped disguise the creaking of a door. 

"There's the stairs!" Galen started to say, and Emma was right behind him when something, a hand, snagged her by the back of her green tunic. Emma made a startled sound, already turning to slash out with her sword, and felt it clash against metal. A twist of that metal, had her sword turned to the side, Emma realizing it was a curved and very sharp looking hook that had parried her attack. 

"I was hoping for Pan." Came the low spoken purr of the pirate, his accented voice like nothing Emma had ever before heard. "But more bait for my hook is always welcome." 

It was then that Emma realized it wasn't just any pirate that she now faced, but the dreaded Captain Hook! 

"Galen run!" Emma screamed, even as she tried to twist her sword free of his hook and simultaneously kick out with her leg. She had the brief satisfaction of her foot connecting with his chest, Emma twisting, turning, her tunic ripping free of the pirate's one good hand as she tried to fly for the stairs that Galen was scrambling up over. 

She got the shock of all shocks when she was tackled from behind, Emma crashing to the floor with a pained cry. She didn't stay dazed for long, trying to throw an elbow back into the pirate's face, but he avoided her frantic attack easily enough. His weight pressed into her, Emma's senses coming alive, making her hyper aware of the man. He smelled nicer than she thought a pirate should, cleaner than any of the lost boys had ever smelt. She heard the faint creak of his clothes, the man dressed all in leather. And then literally felt his surprise, when during their struggles, her cap slipped and fell off, her long blonde hair tumbling free in a golden flow of slightly curly waves. 

Emma's back to him, she couldn't know the pirate's gaze had narrowed at the sight of her hair, that a sneaking suspicion at just what he now dealt with had filled him. A suspicion he meant to confirm, Emma finding herself roughly flipped over, so that her back was against the floor, her face turned up towards his. She caught sight of ocean blue eyes that looked as surprised as hers, the man gasping. 

"A girl?!" 

Not bothering to say anything, Emma resorted to fighting dirty. Her knee rose, planting itself hard between his legs, the answering grunting of pain like music to Emma's ears. She pushed at the pirate, didn't bother to look for her sword when free of him, and took off running up the staircase. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say this time. Maybe I'm just sleepy.…
> 
> Another 02/15/2018 minor revision update... 
> 
> \----Michelle


	4. Four

An outburst of pain had exploded between his thighs, the man known as Hook actually seeing stars. Their color wasn't anywhere as vivid as the green that had briefly flashed with that defiance that had shown in the girl's eyes. That bit of rebellious spirit had been strong enough to swallow up the surprise that she had been showing just seconds earlier. A surprise that had been born when the little blonde had gotten her first real look at the pirate on top of her. It was a surprise he had mirrored, the shock of finding that the blonde beneath him was a rather feisty female, one dressed in the garb that Pan's brood of brats so favored. 

He had been caught unprepared, literally suckered punched by the sight of the spunky female. With her long, shining blonde hair, and forest green eyes, the girl was like nothing he had ever seen in Neverland. Certainly Tiger Lily and the women of her tribe didn't come close to sharing a resemblance with this girl. Not with their dark skin and raven black hair. Neither did the elven females, women who were willowy limbed and wispy thin creatures with chalk white hair, and pale complexions. This girl might have been able to pass for a mermaid, if those foolish sirens had been capable of taking on legs. But then again, this girl had just shown how she had more fight in her than a mermaid could ever hope to have had, Hook still hurting from where she had kneed him. 

Biting his tongue against both the pain and the urge to let out a furious torrent of curses, Hook slowly pushed himself up onto his knees. It wasn't often that anyone, let alone a child got the drop on him. In fact, Hook could think of only one in recent years, but then the existence known as Pan hardly counted. Not when Pan was only a being that pretended at childhood. 

Knowing what Pan was, Hook could easily make excuses for the defeats and indignities he had suffered at that malevolent entity's hands. But the girl? She had nothing to attribute to what Hook considered a lucky blow, other than the fact that her appearance had taken him by complete surprise. A feat that she wouldn't be repeating, no matter how unusual the little blonde appeared to be. 

The pain in no way lessened, Hook staggered to his feet. Above him he could hear the girl, her feet stumbling on the Jolly Roger's floor boards, as a familiar voice cried out startled. That would be Smee, and once more Hook was reminded of just why the pirate captain was glad of the older man's presence aboard his ship. Letting his lips curl in a feral grin, Hook hurried up the staircase, and made it onto the deck of the ship just as the girl was shoving free of Smee. 

Lost boys were calling out, their voices high with panic. Hook spared a brief glance their way, seeing it took three of them to lift the chubby child that his pirates had captured earlier in the day. The girl was running that way, and mustering all his strength to ignore the pain throbbing between his legs, Hook lunged after her. 

"Not so fast." He might have laughed normally, but the pain killed what would have been a jovial mood. He caught the girl around her waist, hauling her against his body, catching the faint pleasant scent of her hair. She went stiff against him for one all too brief second, then began to struggle, flailing one arm, and digging her nails into the skin of his wrist. 

"There's a good lass." Hook purred into the top of her hair, when she stilled at the sound of his sword being drawn noisily out of its scabbard. He held it before her, the sharp blade glinting with the sun's reflection. "No sudden tricks and you and I will get along nicely." 

He heard her exhale, a deep breath that showed she was trying to retain her calm. It couldn't be easy for her, with a pirate pressed against her, a sword mere inches from her neck. He caught sight of her reflection in the blade, the sun having moved behind some clouds. Her fierce green eyes betrayed only a sliver of fear, but she was more determined than anything. Where as the lost boys were openly giving themselves over to their fear, so frightened of Hook's reputation as the most wicked of all of Neverland's pirates. 

Hook often wondered just how many lies Pan had told the lost boys to inspire the amount of fear manifesting in the six lingering in the sky above him. Yes Hook was a pirate, and yes he did do some very bad things, but he also had an honor of his own. For instance he would ALMOST never hurt a child, and his battles with Pan didn't count, because that creature was something more than human or boy. 

Not that Hook didn't take advantage of the reputation Pan had built up for him and his pirates. Sometimes the fear those children had was a good thing, for it made them easier to catch. A truly frightened child lost all of their ability to fly, and Hook was suspecting that very thing had happened to the girl held captive in his arms. 

Frightened as the girl might be, she was also putting on a brave front, not so much as shivering against him. Nor was she crying, much to Hook's relief. He wouldn't have been able to tolerate a female's caterwauling and tears. He never had been able to, not now, and not even three hundred years ago, when he had been a kinder, less ruthless bastard of a man. 

He met the eyes of one of the older boys, a child with spiky hair that was a fiery red. "Tell Pan I've got his girl." Hook called out to the child, who seemed to freeze in place. "He'll know what to bring if he wants her back." 

The lost boys didn't immediately take off for Pan's hideout in the forest. Stricken as they were, they clearly didn't want to leave the girl behind. "Go!" Hook snapped in his harshest tone. 

It wasn't to him that they looked to for orders, the frightened boys shooting desperate, pleading looks to the girl. "You heard him!" She called out in a strong sounding tone of voice. "Get Galen out of here." 

Unspoken was the fact they all knew for truth. The boys would soon lose their ability to fly, a few of them already struggling to maintain their current altitude. They had to make it back to land before their fear overrode their good thoughts and grounded them among the pirates. 

"I'll be fine." The girl added, and Hook caught sight of the kind smile she gave the frightened boys. It was a warm, reassuring look that was reflected in his blade, the girl giving them what she believed to be a lie. It was a lie meant to soothe the worst of their fears for her. 

One of the boys actually started crying, before another reached for his hand, and all but dragged him up towards the clouds. The other boys followed, struggling with the burden of the chubby, flightless child. 

Eyes on the girl's reflection rather than the retreating children, Hook took the time to tsk in her ears. "Actually telling those boys something that you believe to be a lie?" 

"A necessary evil." She retorted in a cold tone, that would have made Kings freeze in place. 

"Thinking like that will get you to grow up all the sooner." Hook told her, and was rewarded with a loud gasp of sound. He almost felt sorry for upsetting her, the girl having gone pale with how disturbed his comment had made her. 

"I would never...." 

"It's not something you'll be able to stop." interrupted Hook. "It's a slippery slope lass....and once started on it's path, the outcome is inevitable. unavoidable." 

The girl shifted against him, her green eyes flashing with her upset. Hook felt like a cruel bastard for tormenting her so, but his feelings were at cross purpose with his intent. Hook had to make sure the little blonde couldn't fly away, and unhappy thoughts coupled with feelings of fear and guilt, were perfect tools to counteract Tinkerbelle's pixie dust. 

"You're wrong." The girl said. "You have to be!" 

"Oh am I?" Hook asked in a mocking tone. "When it happens time and time again to the lost ones?" 

"No." Her quiet protest suddenly bellowed out as a shout. "NO!" 

And then she was squirming, struggling against him, seeming not to care how close she came to cutting herself on his sword. The pirate hissed in response, flinging the sword away from them, scrambling to hold onto her as best he could, given he wasn't trying to hurt her with the hook that had replaced his lost left hand. The girl didn't seem to care about any of it, fighting and shouting, calling him names, trying to kick back with her legs, trying to twist in his arms to claw at his face. 

Hook growled, losing what little patience he had, lifting the girl up to throw her over his shoulder. She continued insulting him, kicking and screaming, clawing at his back, pulling at his short hair. She kept up this behavior right up to the point when he locked her in his private cabin, and even then, through the door, he could hear her screaming the most vicious of curses at him. 

Hook fell against the locked door, and began to shake with a suppressed laughter. Smee cautiously approached him, and Hook smiled at the older man. "She's a fiery little handful, isn't she?" 

"She's something all right..." Came Smee's retort. "But....where did she come from? And who is she exactly?" 

"All very good questions, Smee." Hook continued to lean against the door, hearing rather than feeling the girl pounding her fists on the heavy oak wood. "But I think you're forgetting the most important one. And that is, what is she?" 

"What is she?" repeated Smee, who then grew increasingly nervous at the questions Hook continued to voice. 

"What is she to Pan? Why has he kept her hidden all this time? Why even bring her to Neverland?" But those were questions that Hook in no way expected Smee to have answers to, the older man looking almost comical for how bewildered he seemed by them. 

"I suppose Pan has his reasons." Smee said at last. 

And those reasons were exactly what intrigued Hook, especially where the girl was concerned. Pan almost never did anything without some reason, his hands manipulating nearly every thing that went on in Neverland. An ancient evil, Pan had seeped into every corner of this strange world, more Godlike than king, and ruling with an iron fist. Pan was a tyrant, and the people of Neverland were right to fear him. 

There was a time when even Hook might have feared the demonic Pan, who masked his countless cruelties with a child's smile. But desperate men know little fear, especially when they have nothing left to them. With nothing to lose, and little to look forward to, the worst Pan could do was deny Hook his long sought after revenge. 

Unfortunately that was the very thing that Pan had continued to do! For roughly three hundred years, Hook had been left waiting. The three hundred years that his revenge had been delayed, had left Hook's anger building, his resentments boiling. So much time wasted, Hook's enemy thriving in the pirate's absence. And all because Pan refused to be bought, or threatened into giving Hook the very thing he had remained in Neverland for. The item that was key to the undoing of the monster responsible for Hook becoming this angry, bitter man who had suffered the greatest loss thought possible. 

There wasn't a day that went by, that Hook didn't curse Rumplestiltskin's name. And becoming just as frequent, was the hating of Pan, Hook wanting to be done with that demon and this cursed land of time never ending. 

Much as he wanted done with Neverland, Hook couldn’t just go. Not when he had so much unfinished business with Pan, the pirate captain refusing to just leave. Not without it, that thing that the Indian Tribe's shamaness had promised, that which she had sworen Pan would have, something that was exactly what the pirate needed most. She hadn't told him what that something was, just that Peter Pan would have it in his possession, and that it would be a just as hard to get, as to keep. 

He had last heard the shamaness' prediction some two hundred years ago. Fifty years before the whole Tiger Lily incident had put an end to the pirates good relationship with the Indian princess' people. Life in Neverland had then became even more difficult once the pirates hadhad to hunt and scrounge for ALL of their supplies, foraging off the land that they hated, rather than the simple trading and buying they had once enjoyed with the various Indian Tribes. 

With the tribe's cutting off all friendly relations with the pirates, Hook and his men had had to learn how to fend for themselves. Hunting had been relatively easy, as was foraging, and the pirates had enjoyed brewing their own beer but hated having to sew their own clothing. Worse yet was certain creature comforts they had been going without, the Indian tribe's women no longer a viable source of recreational enjoyments. 

Really it should have been enough to make the pirates leave, if not for their captain's stubborn refusal to go anywhere without the key to Rumplestiltskin's defeat firmly in hand. There was the added problem of HOW they were going to leave Neverland, when they had not even one magical bean to their name. There was of course the pixies' magic dust, but those tiny winged creatures were incredibly ferocious, and kept the location of their excess dust supplies well hidden and guarded. 

Hook's pirates had SOME of the pixie's magic dust gathered, but not enough. Certainly not enough to make more than the Jolly Roger fly, and Hook wasn't about to abandon his men or his revenge. His pirates weren't thrilled about remaining indefinitely in Neverland, but those who raised a mutinous hand to Hook, quickly found themselves as chum for the sharks in Neverland's salty waters. 

In that way, those who couldn't remain loyal to Hook and his cause, were weeded out. Of course that meant there was considerably less pirates left then when they had first arrived in Neverland. It was an unfortunate but acceptable loss, Hook a ruthless enough guy to sacrifice just about anyone in his quest for revenge. 

Just as he was quick to reward those who might help him. Not that there was many left in Neverland that would. Not without Hook forcing their hand, and that usually ended with the people of Neverland having more reasons to loathe the pirates. The Tiger Lily incident was a wonderfully bad example of that, given how Hook had cost his pirates so much in trying to force the chief's hand. It wasn’t just that Hook had wanted their every day help, but their men. The hunters and warriors of the tribe needed to wage a winnable war against Pan and his army of lost boys. 

Life in Neverland was more trial and error than Hook liked, and often without any pay off in the long term. Crazy as it might sound. with the girl locked in his cabin, Hook swore he had a good feeling where she was concerned. A feeling that was practically screaming that she was the key, that vital something needed to force Pan to hand over what Hook needed. The little blonde might be nothing more instrumental than to be a bargaining chip, but one with enough value to get even Pan to listen. 

The questions Hook had voiced to Smee, were very much the reason why he was sure the girl in green was important. And not just because Pan had kept her presence here in Neverland a secret from the pirates. The very fact of what she was, a female child, was odd, and so unlike Pan's usual tastes. Pan dealt almost exclusively in boys, feeding off their energy just as they hit that first bloom of maturity. 

Of course, Hook didn't know ALL about Pan's feeding habits. But he did have theories. Ones that had Pan nurturing his chosen prey, letting them live long lives ignorant of what would ultimately happen to them once they finally hit adult hood. Likening Pan's collection of Lost Boys, to a connoisseurs' vintage wine collection, Hook suspected the longer the lost boy had lived, the better he tasted just before dying. 

Hook didn't know why Pan only fed on boys. Maybe there was something about a girl's feminine energy that Pan found distasteful. Or maybe the boys were somehow easier to fool, or to control. Certainly none of the lost boys had ever thrown a fit the likes of which the little blonde was still having, Hook unable to keep from smirking as he listened to her tear about his room. 

A crash from inside sounded, just as Smee returned, a coconut drink in his hand. Hook quirked an eyebrow at the older man, Smee turning flustered in response. "For the young miss. I thought it might help calm her down." 

"Somehow I think a sugary drink is the last thing that child needs." Hook retorted. The look Smee gave him in return, strongly stated the older man had not considered the energizing effect of sugar on a child. 

"Do you think Pan will trade for her?" Smee asked, choosing to sip at the drink in his hand. 

"Who knows." Hook said, when that was exactly what he was counting on. But he didn't want to get Smee's hopes up, or that of his crew. They had all been through so many disappointments where Pan and Hook's schemes about him were concerned, that it would be demoralizing to have it happen yet again. 

"I suppose it won't hurt to try..." muttered Smee with a sigh. "As long as it doesn't get us all killed..." 

"Pan won't kill us." Hook said confidently. Another crash sounded from the room, Smee wincing at hearing it. "Not when we're the villains in his dramas." 

"Maybe Pan won't kill you..." Smee complained. "But the rest of us have no guarantees." 

Smee was most likely referring to the Indian Shamaness who had told Hook that Pan would have what he needed. She hadn't exactly promised that Hook would get his hand on it, just that it existed. 

"Nothing in this life is guaranteed." Hook's lip curled, though he wasn't exactly smiling. "Not even death." 

Smee was a man who looked uncomfortable under the best of circumstances. He looked even more so now, given what Hook had been saying. "Captain..." 

"Quiet!" Hook snapped, and pressed against the door. "Do you hear that, Smee?" 

"I don't hear anything, Captain." 

"Exactly. Seems our little princess is up to something." Hook smirked for real this time. 

"Maybe the young miss just tired herself out?" ventured Smee, and Hook gave him a disbelieving look. 

"I suppose we're about to find out." Hook answered, already moving to unlock and open the door as quietly as he could manage. He was curious as to what the little blonde was up to, and more than a little surprised to see he was looking forward to what antics the girl might get up to as his guest. It had been a long time since a female of any age had been on his ship, and even longer for one that was as brave and as spirited as this girl had thus far behaved. She brought an air of mystery and excitement with her, and Hook felt very much like he was braving a lion's den to sneak a peek at one of it's cubs. He didn't feel in danger, but perhaps Hook should have, or at least been more worried than he actually was. Because he was about to be bowled over, and wouldn’t even come close to understanding the impact this girl would soon have on his life. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's six am and I'm flailing, cause the site login page won't load for me. =/ 
> 
> I had some...difficulties with this chapter. Mainly I got stuck trying to write a conversation between Smee and Hook. I ended up trashing those crappy attempts, and pretty much went right into Hook's thoughts and experiences and knowledge about Pan and Neverland and what not. I ended up satisfied with the overall chapter, though I got stuck again trying to find a good way to end this chapter. It was one of those, my ending lines don't feel like ending lines, so I kept having to add another sentence, and then another in that last paragraph. X_X 
> 
> 2/15/2018 More visions and tweaking done to the overall chapter…..
> 
> \----Michelle


	5. Five

There was no way to disguise the opening of the door, the heavy oak wood seeming to groan in protest as it was pushed inwards. The inside of the cabin then lay revealed, Hook having a scant second to catch sight of it's ram shackled state, before he was under attack. 

Turning in the direction of the movement sensed out the corner of his eye, Hook had already raised his arm to take the brunt of the book's blow. A particularly heavy book, the pirate couldn't help but be relieved that the girl had chosen something blunt in her attempt to bludgeon him unconscious. Of course he couldn't in any way claim she would have shown such care, if the weapons cabinet hadn't already been secured shut by a thick padlock and chain. 

The book, a leather bound first edition that would have fetched a high price among collectors should Hook have ever cared to sell it, was brought to hammer down against his arm a second time. The pirate pushed out with his arm, knocking the girl off balance on the chair she had situated herself upon. She teetered a second before falling, one arm wind milling in the air, the book dropping to the carpet, and just like that she was in his arms, Hook having caught her before she could slam into the floor. 

He had a second to be lost in the forest that was alive in the color of her eyes, and then Pan's girl began thrashing, trying to smash a fist into his face. Hook grappled with her, grabbing at her wrist, his arm around her waist. She would not hold still, twisting and turning so that her face was lost amongst the gold that was her hair. They'd end with her back once again against his front, Hook finding it took real effort to subdue the girl, and took even more to hold on to her. He nearly breathed an audible sigh of relief, when she sagged against him panting, the little blonde having exhausted the extraordinary amount of fight in her small frame. 

Smee wasn't half as impressed as his captain was with the girl's wild fight, his disapproval ringing clear in his exclamation. "She's a right wild spitfire that needs a good dousing!" 

"Come now Smee, who are we pirates to discourage such spirit?" questioned Hook, though he didn't look at the older man. He was too focused on the girl in his arms, too attuned to her every quiver, waiting on the off chance a second wind would restore her vigor. 

"Spirit is one thing, but the chit tried to bloody well kill you!" 

Hook let out robust laugh at that. "Smee you exaggerate as always. I'll not be felled by such a weapon, and not before I have my revenge." 

"If you think to lay so much as a finger on Peter..." began the girl, though the threat that she was trying to make was less than impressive, given she still wheezed for air. "I won't hesitate to cut off your other hand!" 

"Again she threatens you!" spat Smee. "Brat, I'll not tolerate your behavior a second longer, even if I have to take you over my knee..." 

"Now Smee, that's no way to talk to the little lady." The scoff of sound Hook heard voiced, indicated just how unladylike Smee found the girl to be. "Not when she's an honored guest." 

"Guest?" The girl practically snorted. "I don't believe for one second you pirates are that stupid to confuse the word guest with captive." A half hearted squirming followed her words but the little blonde seemed at her limits to put up a true fight so soon after her defeat. "Damn you, let me go!" 

"Certainly!" Smee forgot himself enough to answer for his captain. "I'll just be getting a chain first..." 

"Smee!" snapped Hook in warning. "There's no need..." 

"She'll take off to the skies the first chance she gets, mark my words, captain!" 

"That won't be a problem, will it, my dear?" Hook chuckled above her ear. 

The little blonde had gone statue still, not even a shiver to betray her thoughts. "I don't know what you mean." Stiff toned, she played at bluffing. Someone like Smee, less smart and far more prone to worrying about the wrong kind of things then Hook was, might have been fooled by her. But Hook had seen how she had reacted to his words when out on the deck, how disturbed they had made her. There had been anger in her energy, but the tantrum that had followed had been born out of fear, the girl panicking in full revolt, lashing out rather than fleeing. Already having been frightened by him, Hook had set off enough turmoil in her, that the little blonde couldn't have retained any chance of still flying. Not then, and not now, the pixie's magic such that it would take another dosing of dust and a plethora of happy thoughts, before this child would be able to recover. 

Smiling at her back, Hook relaxed his hold on her. Smee made an objecting sound, tensing to grab for the girl should she try to rush past. Flight or not, most children would have tried exactly that, but this girl continued her bluff, stepping away from Hook but in no way breaking for the door. 

Nor did she immediately turn towards her host, the girl seeming intent on ignoring him. But she couldn't hide her nervous energy, nor the effort it took her to not erupt into violence once more. 

Now that her tantrum was over with, the girl was remarkable composed given her age and the situation. She hadn't yet to shed a tear, though she had screamed, and had fought, only to ultimately tire herself out. She seemed braver than the boys Hook had had dealings with, not falling apart in a fit of teary eyed hysterics over what she thought the pirates would do. The differences only made Hook more curious about her, and what purpose Pan might have for her. 

Making it his business to know as much as he could about his enemies, Hook stepped towards the girl. Eager to unravel the mystery that she was, not just to satisfy his own curiosity, but to use against Pan, Hook grazed his fingertips alongside the bare skin of her arm. 

"All right." He softly said, and the caress became an iron grip, stopping the girl's attempt to lash out at him. "Let's get a good look at you." 

She hadn't bothered to brush away the hair that had fallen over her face, the clinging gold strands strewn in every which way. It allowed him only a glimpse of the glaring green of her eyes, her features otherwise obscured by the hair, until Hook began brushing the strands aside. 

The blunt curve of his hook nudged under her chin both kept the girl behaving, and her face turned up to the light. Her hostile gaze was uncovered, as was the inherent prettiness of her face. Hook heard a sharp breath behind him, Smee having put aside his own issues with the girl, to pay close attention to her looks. 

Hook looked at that loveliness, and knew trouble of the worst kind glared back. Older than he had first assumed, the word child now seemed wrong to use when referring to the burgeoning beauty that stood just years short of being a grown woman. That damnable mix of too young yet old enough was trouble, and already she had just enough curves to her thin frame to promise mouth watering delights upon full maturity. 

Already quite pretty as a girl, Hook knew she'd be a vision of the most stunning kind should she be allowed to mature into a woman. A vision that was something that Hook would very much like to see, though he knew Pan would never allow it. That demon would most likely kill the girl, just like he had so many countless boys, destroying her beauty long before anyone, before Hook, could get a chance to taste and appreciate it. 

It was a sobering effect his thoughts then had on him, breaking Hook free of some of the shock that had taken hold of him. A shock that had had him unconsciously caressing the girl's cheek, with fingers unfit for a child, his touch holding a corrupting influence to it. Beings less pure of nature than she, had fallen to the taint of his hook, his blood running cold at the mere suggestion of the harm he could do unwittingly do to the girl, an innocent trapped in Pan's schemes. 

She wasn't safe with Pan, but then neither would she find haven with his pirates. Their very nature was such that it would despoil her, bring about changes that would wreak havoc with whatever Pan planned. At the worst she would grow up and become just another meal for Pan, a fate Hook wouldn't be able to protect her from, wasn't even sure if he had it in him to try. Not again, not when he had failed every single time, having to watch as boys who had placed their hopes and trusts in his hand, had died with resentment in their eyes. 

Hook looked at the girl and held back more than a shudder, unwilling to form an attachment to yet another that would die. It was easier not to get involved, to not care, but doubly hard to protect his heart simply because she was a girl, and a pretty, young female would be easy to adore, as easy as her grown counterpart would be made for loving.

Disturbed by her, by the fate that he was almost certain Pan had in store for her, Hook couldn't help but worry if she would be the first to expand the demon's tastes. Better to try and fathom a different reason why the demonic tyrant would have need of her, but best not to get too involved at all. Hook would use her to force Pan's hand, to get that which he so desperately needed, and then leave this cursed, time forsaking land. He had his own monster to slay, though Hook was no white knight hero by far. For all his fighting with Pan, Hook knew it was not by his hand that the demon would die, the pirate's show of resistance a token at best. 

All this turmoil churning inside him took only seconds to think, Hook forcing himself away from the girl, but not from the memory lingering that whispered softly on how soft her cheek's skin had felt. His fingers rubbed together as though chasing after the feel, Hook trying not to frown at her while she made him the focus of her intense stare. 

That beautiful green that one could lose their soul to, was on him, her eyes wide like saucers. He had startled her, but her looking had more reason behind it then that. She was studying him, the look in her eyes one of fascination. Hook found himself standing taller, letting the sun light him from behind. Of all his crew, he was the most handsome, the one most likely to charm females, both big and small. With his rugged beauty, the dark hair, and piercing blue eyes, Hook's been both scorned and desired, and more than one has claimed his brand of handsome to be otherworldly. 

His looks hardly suited for the battlefield, Hook should have been born to the fat life of some rich aristocrat, or even a prince. Instead of the plundering, pillaging pirate that he actually was in truth. Not even the silver hook that replaced his left hand could ruin the pretty picture that he presented, even as it added a measure of menace to his appearance. The dark clothing helped further, Hook dressing the part of the villain a pirate's life demanded he be. 

Apparently it wasn't enough for the girl, her brows drawn together, her expression troubled as she exclaimed, "You don't look anything like a pirate!" 

Hook quirked his eyebrows at her, not fighting a teasing smile. She didn't blush, and maintained her stare, her lips parting on a sigh. "And you be knowing just how many pirates in your young life?" 

A rapid blink of her eyes, a not quite shuffle of her feet. "I don't know any pirates." She admitted with a frown. "But that doesn't change the fact that you look nothing like one!" 

"And you don't look like any of the lost ones I've ever seen." Hook countered with an attempt to maneuver the conversation into finding out more about the girl. "But that doesn't stop the fact that you exist, and that you are here..." 

"Yes, but that's..." 

"But that's what?" Hook's sharp demand took over at the girl's silence. She didn't cringe or flinch, merely gave him a defiant gaze. 

"What do you really want with Peter?" A question was asked instead of answered. 

"Pan has something that I require." 

"And that is?" 

Hook smiled anew. "That is best kept between Pan and me." 

"Well you won't get it." Her eyes flashed with challenge. "No matter what you may do to me, Peter will never give you what you want!" Tense with bravado that surely was false in part, she stood with her hands on her hips. "So you might as well save yourself a whole lot of trouble and let me go now!" 

"Let you go?" Hook frowned as though puzzled. "Dear girl, you are free to leave at anytime." The look she gave him was one of doubt, her eyes then flashing pointedly in Smee's direction. 

"Step aside Smee." Hook ordered, and it took a second for the older man to realize he had been given an order. It took Smee even longer to remember to close his mouth, the older man having stood there all this time, staring in slack jawed wonder at the girl. 

The girl didn't immediately bolt for the door, inching instead around Hook, so that never did she show him her back. Smee looked worried, a questioning look shot his captain's way. Hook did the slightest shake of his head, Smee's worry clearly only increasing in response.

Free of the cabin, the girl then rushed to railing, peering at the island in the distance. Hook sauntered in her direction at a leisurely pace, then caged her in with his arms, the girl trapped between him and the railing. 

"Is there a problem, princess?" He asked with a soft whisper of a tone. Hook didn't miss her shiver, or how the breeze caressed playfully through her hair, the blonde color catching the sun, transforming it into a pirate's gold. And like all gold, Hook had to resist the urge to reach out and claim it. 

"Damn you." Is what she first said, in answer to his inquiring tone. "You knew I wouldn't be able to fly." 

Hook smirked at her back. "You're not the first lost one who found it difficult to retain the pixie's gift in my presence." 

Her grip on the railing tightened, knuckles bleeding out of their color, so that only white remained. It bothered her, the idea that something, be it Hook or the situation, or maybe even both, had scared her that much. 

"You've been very brave." Hook continued, the need to soothe her rising up and surprising them both. "Even Pan himself wouldn't be able to find fault with how you conducted yourself today." 

His words didn't comfort her. "Except for the fact I broke one of his only rules." She grumbled softly. "But I couldn't let you kill Galen!" 

"Kill?" Hook couldn't help but snort in derision. "I may be a pirate, but even pirates don't stoop so low as to kill a child." 

She turned, putting her back to the railing. "That's not what Peter says." 

"Pan lies about many things, especially where pirates are concerned." 

"Peter is incapable of telling a lie!" She protested. 

"There's few things that Pan is incapable of, and lying is not one of them." Hook's retort had her bristling with anger, the girl shoving at his chest with her hands. Hook grabbed at her arm for balance, stumbling back a step and taking her with him. 

"You! You're the liar! You wicked, vicious pirate!" She shouted. "Peter is good, and kind, and everything you're not!" 

She shoved again at him, starting to thrash about in an attempt to pull away. Hook kept careful hold on her, not trusting the way her eyes darted wildly about. As though she was seeking some escape, or worse yet a weapon, and his sword was laying somewhere on deck from when he had thrown it earlier.

The girl continued shouting, things about Pan's goodness, and how wicked a man a pirate like Hook had to be. Hook stilled the worst of her motions by grasping hold of both her thin wrists in his much larger hand. Hook went so far as to loom over her, actually opened his mouth to tell her the truth about Pan, only to stop at the last second. Because what was the point in dashing the illusion, in stripping the wool from her eyes. Pan would do what he always did, and the girl would not be better off knowing the fate that was in store for her, for all of the lost ones. 

Telling himself it was better for her, for them all, if the little blonde continued to believe Pan's lies, Hook still felt like a wretch at keeping quiet. Even with knowing that only misery and terror lied in wait should the girl know the truth, and BECAUSE he knew that, Hook set out to protect her in the only way that he could. He'd maintain Pan's lie, let the girl believe she had been brought to a child's dreamland, and not the nightmarish hell of the demon's reality. 

It still left a foul taste in his mouth, but his upset had little to do with Pan's deception. Bothersome as it was, Hook was wishing he could do more for the girl, for all the lost ones that had been spirited away to Neverland. But how many times could he involve himself with their problems, only to watch as time and time again Pan made a mockery of his efforts, and made the feeding even more sick and depraved as both a punishment and a reminder for Hook to not interfere in this? 

Telling himself it was a lost cause, didn't stop Hook from wishing it was different. From wishing he had the strength and energy to kill more than one monster in his lifetime. But it was going to take everything he didn't yet have, and Hook wasn't willing to die at Pan's hand so long as it meant that Rumplestiltskin would remain alive. It made him rationalize, made him reason his revenge was all that mattered. Despite all he told himself, and because of soulful green eyes, Hook was left feeling like the liar, the no good, wicked and vicious pirate Pan had claimed him to be. It wasn't a feeling that Hook liked, but he liked even less investing in lost causes. And that was exactly what the girl was, something Hook would need all his strength to remember. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about this chapter. It gave me a lot of trouble, to the point I felt stuck. X_X I hate when I have all these plans, and get stuck on advancing the story, getting it to the point I can work in my plans. X_X Also had a bit of a headache around the middle of this. 
> 
> 2/15/2018 And the tweaking to the overall story continues. Wonder how many chapters I can read through and go over in a day…..
> 
> \----Michelle


	6. Six

Emma knew that she wasn't acting like herself. That the calm center that she had found amidst the wonders of Neverland, that the level head and the practical manner, all had fled from her grasp now. In their wake was left anger's hostility, that spiking fear, and a need that felt irrational and yet perfectly sensible all at once. It left Emma lashing out against something she couldn’t understand. Something that made the pirate the perfect focus for her rage, Emma rightfully blaming him for the feelings that were unsettling back to life inside of her. 

He made her angry, and he made her scared. Hook transformed Emma into a girl that was irrational, irritable, and quick to give over to an angry kind of panic. The tantrums were the result of that panic, Emma unable to stop herself from reacting. It wasn't who she wanted to be, and it felt as big a defeat then if she had cried, her tumultuous feelings breaking Tinkerbelle's spell, and grounding her in reality. 

Only the very ground seemed to be slipping away from her, Emma feeling as though she was falling, faster and faster, and she wasn't going to stop, her only anchor that of Hook's hand around both her wrists. The irony wasn't lost on her, Emma aware that all of her off unbalanced feelings had started because of this man. Because of who he was, because of where she was, because of what he had said, what he had done, and most of all because of how he looked. 

The prettiest man a young Emma Swan had ever seen, something inside her had begun to react, Captain Hook affecting her in a way no male before him ever had. Emma Swan didn't have much experience with handsome men, the foster fathers she had known in her life, creepy or old or both, so abusive and predatory she hadn't been able to see past their worrisome intentions. 

The boys of those families, brothers in name alone, hadn't been much better. Foul of heart, cruel of nature, Emma had found it hard to look past the despicable acts they had committed, to appreciate if any had been cute in appearance. They had seem like bullying dogs to her, mean, vicious enough to bite and tear into any who came near. She had been scared of them as much as she had the older men, and had done her best to stay away from both types. 

It hadn't been until Peter had brought her to Neverland that Emma had started to let down her considerable guard. Among her family, the lost boys, Emma had learned that there was more than hurt to be found at a male's hand. Emma had discovered kindness, and caring, had learn what to meant to have the love of a sibling and to return that love ten fold, in an unconditional display that hurt no one, least of all her. 

Learning to trust the lost boys, to accept them as her real family, Emma had finally known the safety and comfort she had always been wishing for. And now that safety and comfort was dashed, her idyllic life threatened, the man Hook a danger to her in a way she hadn't considered, hadn't thought possible. Because she had been dazzled, one clear look into his face bringing young Emma Swan careening reluctantly into awareness. 

She hadn't had that kind of awareness with Peter, or with any of the older of her band of brothers. She hadn't felt it among the Indians, and none of the dwarves had inspired it either. Even the elven men with their own brand of white haired handsome, hadn't been enough to kick start it into happening. But now it had begun, and it wasn't going to go away, the beating of her awakening heart sounding very much like the tick of time starting. 

Was it any wonder she fought tooth and nail against it, against him? Why panic filled her, why resentment colored her eyes, even as her traitorous heart thrilled at being in close proximity to him? To the man, the infamous Captain Hook, who took her tantrum and outbursts all in good stride, easily restraining her, never actually hitting her, never so much as letting his hand grab at her breasts. Behaving more like a gentleman than a pirate, and Emma still wanted to hate him. She not only begged for a reason, but acted out in the hopes of getting it. 

Hook never turned violent, instead simply holding her. His arms around her were strong, felt like unbendable steel. With no hope for a teenage girl to ever come close to breaking free, Emma still struggled, rebelling out of her fright and her confusion. It left her tired and panting, the air embarrassingly wheezing out of her. She allowed herself to sag just a little, once again conceding to his strength, to the defeat he had dealt her so effortlessly. If he had at all gloated, or had mocked her for that weakness, Emma thought then she might have mustered up some true hate, but Hook did neither of those things. 

"Smee, some water for the young lady." 

"Yes, Captain!" Smee scurried off, and within a few minutes, returned with a tall glass of water. Such was Emma's exhaustion, that she didn't refuse the drink, didn't even contemplate throwing it in either of the two pirate's faces. Instead she began to gulp it down, greedy for the cool refreshing taste, and the quenching of her thirst it promised. 

"Easy there...." The pleasantly accented voice in her ear held Hook's amusement. To glower at him, Emma would have had to twist in his hold, and her exhaustion was such that it seemed more work than it was worth it to give him that glare. 

Already aware of how easily he mastered her, Emma saw no reason to be difficult where the drink was concerned. After all, what use to her was a petty victory that would avail her nothing where this Hook was concerned? Her drinking slowed, no longer so grasping and wild. Emma wished the storm of emotions inside her would be half as calm, but there was no taming her feelings, or the inexplicable delight she privately took to hear Hook praise her. 

"That's a good girl." 

The older man Smee, was watching her, his careful attention on the glass she held. It was clear he didn't trust her, that the sight of the glass in her hands made him uneasy. She met his eyes with a glare, and slowly curled her lips. It unsettled the man further, Smee looking like he would leap forward to wrestle the near empty glass from her hands. 

Hook stopped the debacle from happening. "Smee, see about putting together a quick meal. The little lady and I will be taking a late lunch in the captain's cabin." 

Smee pursed his lips together like he had tasted something sour. "I wouldn't feel right, leaving you two alone for that long." 

"Smee." A million stern warnings in that one word. 

"At least wait until the rest of the crew returns to Jolly Roger." begged Smee. "Then Mason or Raoul can stand watch." 

"To chaperone, you mean?" Emma didn't imagine the annoyed edge in Hook's tone of voice. 

"To guard your back from her." Smee answered quickly, shooting another wary look at Emma. She glared back at him, then turned astonished to hear the captain's hearty laugh. A laugh that made her stomach flip flop, the unfettered joy in it, along with the low husky sound of it, making Emma feel strange and light headed. Even as a part of her bristled at his amusement, Emma not liking that Hook did not take her threat seriously. 

Smee didn't like it either, almost whining as he pleaded. "I don't trust her captain. She'd sooner stab you with the cutlery than eat with it!" 

"The thought had crossed my mind." Emma announced with wry derision in her voice. "But since killing your captain when I have no way off this ship is not the wisest of courses, I shall refrain for one meal." 

The low chuckle of the captain was heard, the husky sound vibrating along nerve endings that Emma hadn’t even known she had had. It left Emma fighting back a shiver while Smee sputtered in barely contained outrage. "The little minx has no shame, admitting to such a thing!" 

"Our princess is merely having a laugh at your expense, Smee." 

"Are you so sure of that?" Emma demanded, turning to risk a look into Captain Hook's face. She immediately regretted it, their eyes meeting, and it was not the ship that was responsible for the swaying beneath her feet. Hook held her upright, and did nothing to betray her unsteady stance to Smee. Emma blinked several times before glaring, refusing to give him gratitude for his help with a condition that he had caused. 

"Are you really that blood thirsty, my dear?" Hook asked her, as if nothing strange had just happened. Maybe for him it hadn't, but for Emma the world was starting to shatter, leaving her to fear what she would find in it's remains. 

"Cross me and see." Is what she managed to say out loud. Emma lost the ability to breathe the moment Hook smiled in reply, the amused light seeping into his eyes, almost but not quite chasing the deeper shadows away. The shadows were haunted, hinting at a past, their presence a part of the pirate, a defining essence that had shaped him. For all Hook's ready laughter and smiles, Emma came away with the distinct feeling that this man didn't truly know happiness. 

"What a fierce pirate you'd make, princess." Hook spoke as though that was the utmost in compliments, and perhaps it was to his kind. 

"Pirate or princess, I would be neither." 

"Then what shall I call you?" asked Hook, the question startling Emma into realizing for all that had happened, the pirate did not know her name. "If not princess, then what? Pan's treasure?" 

She frowned at him. "I am not anyone treasure." 

An odd look in his eyes, as though Hook would protest that point. "Pan certainly guards you like a treasure." 

"And what would you know of that?" Emma demanded. 

"He's been careful, so careful." Hook answered. "Keeping your very existence a secret from me and my pirates. I can't help but wonder why..." 

"Do you make it a habit of knowing of every single one of his lost boys?" countered Emma. 

"I may not know them all by name, but I make it my business to know what Pan is up to." 

She frowned at him. "Peter is not up to anything. It's you pirates who plot and scheme." 

"So we do." Hook muttered in agreement. "Your name now, sweet child?" 

Her lips were holding the threat of a pout, Emma feeling sullen to give up this piece of her. "Emma." It whispered out of her. "Emma Swan." 

"A fine name for a spirited little lady." Hook at last stepped back from her, sweeping his arm out theatrically before bowing over it. "And I am Killian Jones, otherwise known as Hook for reasons I am sure you can guess." 

Never been bowed to before, Emma was even more surprised when Hook offered her his arm. As though she really was a little lady, or some fine princess come to dine with a king. Uncertain, Emma allowed Hook to tuck her arm around his, the pirate escorting her to his cabin. The cabin she had wrecked, the results of her tantrum and wild scrabble to break out, everywhere, Emma feeling a guilty unease to see it now. 

Things were smashed on the floor, Emma having swept through the room like the wind itself, a maelstrom of anger. A chair was overturned, gauzy silk curtains ripped aside to discover the window itself was too small for her to fit through, even if she could have still flown. There was beads everywhere, a whole hanging wall of them having separated the smaller half of the room. 

With most of the beads scattered, Emma could easily see the bed that Hook must sleep in, her face filling with flustered warmth just to imagine him a top it. It wasn't the only reason for her blush, Emma embarrassed now at how thorough she had been, in wrecking his room. Even the pillows hadn't been left alone, Emma having thrown them to the floor, searching under them for the dagger she had been sure the pirate would have insisted on keeping close to him while he slept. 

As if she hadn't been angry enough, to not find the imagined dagger had thrown her into a tizzy, and more than a few feathers had flown. As did just about anything not nailed down, breakable or otherwise, and she couldn't imagine Hook not canceling the lunch to beat her instead. 

Shame faced and knowing she had earned his violent wrath, Emma was STILL defiant as she glanced towards him. Hook was still taking in the extent of her tantrum's damage, Emma trying not to fidget besides him as she slipped her arm free of his. 

"No wonder Smee is upset." Hook finally spoke. "You've doubled, maybe tripled his workload!" The amused light was back in his eyes, a smile on his lips. Emma blinked in surprise, startled enough to forget to glare. 

"You....you are not mad?" She ventured, hating the partial stammer that had betrayed her nerves. 

"It is not I who will be responsible for putting this room back to normal." Hook replied. But Emma couldn't trust this, challenging him. 

"Surely...you have more to say then that!" 

"Calm your fears, child. It is not you who my anger turns to." 

Emma was tense enough, that she forgot to protest, to insist that she wasn't afraid. "Then to who?" She wanted to know. 

"To myself." His answer surprised her. "It was I who had forgotten just how strongly fierce a lady's temper could be when roused." He was still smiling, but his eyes looked sadder somehow. "You're not the first to have destroyed this room in a fit of anger, although I can't say they acted out of any desire to escape from here." 

Emma could believe that, having the strong suspicion that not many women would fight to leave the captain's room, not when he looked as pretty as Hook did. And then the embarrassed heat was stronger, Emma doubly glad Hook couldn't possibly be privy to her private thoughts. 

"Of course, now that I've been reminded, and you yourself sorry, it won't be happening again, will it?" inquired Hook. 

Outrage flared, more to do with her embarrassment than his words. "Who says I am sorry?!" 

"If not sorry, then what?" In response, Emma chewed at her lip, attempting to look away. The blunt curve of his hook under her chin, drew her gaze back to the pirate, the man studying her with an intent so focused, it brought her miserably reacting. 

"Ah...." Understanding had dawned in Hook's eyes. An understanding Emma feared saw inside her, to the heart she herself wasn't understanding, to the confusing feelings that were all a flutter and in turmoil. "What stories Pan must have told you! To fear that I would beat you..." 

"Or worse." Emma managed to whisper, before realizing she had to maintain being brave. She made herself stand taller, refusing to cower. 

"What could be worse than a beating to a child?" 

Hook's musing question, had Emma answering in a hoarse tone of voice. "I can think of more than a few things...." 

Frowning, Hook gazed deep into her eyes, and whatever he saw there, disturbed even him. "Yes, yes I dare say you can." His blue had darkened ominously, the menacing anger there promising to roll the very sea the Jolly Roger lay anchored in. "If Pan..." 

"Peter?" Emma interrupted in surprise. "Peter has been nothing but kind to me. To all of us." She was aghast at the very idea that Hook would misunderstand enough to think Peter Pan was responsible for the hurt and knowledge Emma had. The knowledge of just how cruel and evilly inventive an adult could be where children were concerned. "Peter could never do such things." She added out loud, not understanding why Hook's anger did not calm, why he seemed almost bitter as he spoke. As though the words were foul and poisoning him to speak. 

"Of course. Pan would never hurt a child." Now Hook was the one turning away, walking over to the center of the room. A table was there, with several chairs, one of which she had managed to knock over. Hook righted the overturned chair, then patted it's back in an open gesture for Emma to come sit. 

Seeing no reason not to, Emma cautiously approached. Nothing seemed to happen, not until after she sat, and his hand pressed down on her shoulder, in a restraining grip meant to keep her from fleeing. 

"If not Pan, then who?" Hook demanded, and Emma really would have ran. From the steel menace in his voice, the question hinting at pain and retribution that would be dealt out to whomever that Emma might name. Which was ridiculous, Hook had no reason to want to play champion to a girl, one he had just met and who was by all rights his enemy. 

Ridiculous and absolutely pointless, because her tormentors were also long dead, Emma realizing she was getting caught up in what had to be a trick of the pirates, the man trying to ingratiate himself by playing outraged and concerned. 

"It doesn't matter." Emma noted his hand didn't relax, still tense and pressuring against her shoulder. "It happened a lifetime ago." 

She felt the hesitation, and then Hook was lifting his hand. "Of course." He muttered, then began to pace away from her. She shifted in her seat, turning to watch Hook move about the room. He had said the mess was Smee's to fix, but Hook was fiddling about, picking up some of the books and trinkets she had knocked to the beautiful carpets on the floor. 

As he did this, that powerful, rolling upset seemed to leave him, Hook becoming calm and composed once more. If it was all an act, it was a very convincing one, and Emma hated that she wanted to believe that Hook could care about her for even a second. But any concern that he truly had, was in her value as a hostage or as trap against Peter, Hook ready to lie, to manipulate, in order to get his revenge on the eternal child. 

Hiding a frown, Emma vowed to be on guard. To not let Hook play her false, or fool her into trusting him. His brand of handsome had thrown her, had made her foolish. Even as she was uneasy by it, by her reaction to his looks, actually letting it distract her to the point that Emma had nearly forgotten what Peter had told her. Hook was wicked, a ruthless pirate, willing to do just about anything, use anyone, for his own goals. He was cut from the same cloth as those adults she had known, the inventively cruel, sadistic, EVIL men and women who had hurt and used any child in their reach. 

Firming her fists in her lap, Emma forced herself to look away from Hook. Anger was rising, Emma upset at how she had let him play her thus far. That anger crashed with an unspoken yearning, Emma struggling for calm in the face of the volatile turmoil inside her, the wanting conflicting with what she assumed she knew to be fact. A voice whispered to her, telling her that Peter had got it wrong, that she had got it wrong. Captain Hook was not what Emma had been taught to expect, he was WORSE. And something she was beginning to think of as her traitorous, easily tricked heart, didn't seem to even care! 

Emma knew that she was in trouble. Had known it from the moment she had looked into Hook's face, and felt the awakening of those feelings inside her. Peter's warnings now didn't just make sense, they felt lacking, as though he hadn't prepared her enough for this encounter. But then could anything have prepared her for the reality that was Captain Hook, could anything have kept her from his notice, and he hers? Emma couldn't say, didn't even have a name for the trouble she had sensed. But her heart kept on beating, stronger now and in rhythm with the ticking of time's approach. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after I reread five, I ended up REALLY liking it. I like this chapter six too, though not half as much as I ended up liking chapter five. XD I worry about six's ending paragraph that it got a little rambly or something. Now I'm debating on whose POV will get chapter seven, though most likely it will be a Hook POV. 
> 
> Darn, now I feel sleepy when I shouldn't be tired. X_X 
> 
> 2/15/2018 and the minor revision works continue. I forgot how much fun I found this chapter to read! XD
> 
> \----Michelle


	7. Seven

Busying himself about the room, Hook was oblivious to the young girl's own discomfort. To the feelings that upset her, that unwanted awareness that lingered inside her even when she was caught miserly anticipating a beating or worse. No, Hook was blind to the girl's turmoil, to the effort that it took her for Emma not to sit and openly stare at him. Vaguely at best, Hook just might have noticed how she kept fidgeting, how she played with her hands, as though unsure of where exactly to leave them. One second they were trembling at her side on the chair's arm rest, only to then clasp them together to lay on her lap. To ultimately end up on the table, Emma having noticed the carvings in the wood. 

Her fingers traced over those carving, to the names engraved there. Wordlessly she lingered over the slashes over Hook's own name, but her questions never came. She didn't ask about it, or about the name Milah, and for that Hook should have been relieved. Because the girl had narrowly avoided ripping open a wound that had never truly healed, a wound that's bandage was frayed, Hook unable to leave it alone for good. 

It was that wound of his heart being crushed, of his loss, that had brought Hook to Neverland. That had bid him to stay. Searching endlessly on the hopes of some key piece of information, or a weapon of some kind, that would allow him to slay his own demon. Rumplestiltskin gave life to that which haunted him, the torment and grief, and most of all the driving need for revenge. A revenge he had lingered on the cusp of achieving, endlessly waiting the last two hundred years for the Indian Shamaness words to come true, for that which Hook needed, to end up in his hand. 

But it hadn't happened yet, Pan as miserly with the item as he was bloated on lost boys and whatever it was that let Neverland's demon grow more powerful by the day. Already near invincible, Pan only grew harder and harder to kill with the every child that he had consumed. And with every soul lost, Hook felt his chance of getting what he needed from Pan, slipping through his fingers. Leaving him to wonder if he would ever have it, ever even come close to knowing what that something was. 

Obsessed as he was with the finding and having of the thing that the Indian Shameness had spoke of, it wasn't the reason behind Hook's disturbed feelings on this day. Revenge was nearly pushed from his mind, Hook more concerned with the girl, with what might have been done to her, what might still be done, but also with the memories she now stirred. Because young Emma Swan wasn't the first of the lost ones to be a guest on his ship, more boys then Hook cared to count having come to him, either in desperation, or in the case of one young Owen, out of sheer fascination. 

Hook couldn't help but remember that bright eyed boy of ten, and how the Jolly Roger crew, had found him stowed away among goods they had bartered for from the Indians native to Neverland’s soil. Young Owen had been more excited than scared, Hook and his pirates tolerant, perhaps even amused by the boy's antics. He wasn't the first to stow away on a pirate's ship, and Hook knew how to deal with those who did. After all it was practically a tradition to force stowaways to be part of the crew, many of those on board the Jolly Roger having been introduced to piracy that way. Hook included! 

And young Owen had been ecstatic to be made one of the crew, even if all he had really been was a cabin boy. Owen hadn't been able to differentiate between servant and pirate, and he had taken to his chores with an enthusiasm never before seen. Complaining little, learning slowly the pirates' way of life, Owen had seemed to thrive and no one had wondered at the damage they might be doing. The risks they were posing the boy, their behavior and crude talk affecting him. 

Of course the pirates couldn't be completely sure they were at fault. It could have been Owen's long unfulfilled desire that was responsible for the changes that came to the boy. It might have even been a factor of both, Owen growing, until less than a week later, he was abruptly boy no more. 

The boy had barely survived startling Mason, the tattooed pirate putting him to the sword. The lanky young man the boy had become, had been near unrecognizable except for his brightly colored eyes. And even then, Hook and his pirates hadn't been able to believe it, had barely begun to process what had happened, when a shadow had come looming overhead. 

The first time that Hook actually saw Pan up close, was during the demon's most vicious behavior. Morphing into a creature more terrifying than the seemingly friendly boy he usually paraded as, Owen hadn't even lasted an hour as an adult. With a blood red smile, and things best left unidentified dripping off his claws, Pan had introduced himself, and thanked Hook for harboring his meal. 

The violence that had been committed, had been savage, and an uncomfortable reminder of Hook's own past. He'd never get used to seeing someone's heart in Pan's hand, never be able to not flash back to the moment Milah's own had been crushed by Rumplestiltskin's fist. And every time, remembering his pain, Hook flew into a rage to fight the unstoppable demons of his past and present. 

For all his anger, for all his skill with a sword, Hook couldn't come close to killing those monsters. Couldn't even hope to vanquish them through mortal means. None of his pirates could, though those that remained a part of the Jolly Roger's crew, never gave up trying. But every loss was painful, every boy just another Owen who had finally been triggered to grow up for whatever reason. There was a reason the children brought to Neverland were known as the lost ones, and it had nothing to do with the fact they had been spirited away from their homes and everything to do with the fact that nothing, that no one, could save them from Pan. 

It was a lesson hard learned. A lesson that was repeated for far too many times, other boys running from Pan, coming to the pirates out of sheer desperation, or even by mere chance. Most times Hook seemed the lesser evil, the boys frightened and placing their hopes in the pirate's hand. He had failed them every time, saw them die with resentment in their eyes, their own features distorted in excruciating pain. 

Most times Pan made quick work of his meal. But sometimes the newly grown boys escaped, surviving long enough to search for help. Being hunted at Pan's leisure, the demon not at all worried that his prey would escape. Hook didn't know how many had died since he had first come to Neverland. The lost boys' numbers changed too often, too many falling prey to Pan before they could so much as scream, let alone run. Always learning too late that they had placed their trust in a monster's hands. 

But Pan wasn't the only monster out there. Sometimes the monsters were even closer. Sometimes the monsters were your own kind, your family, your guardians, your supposed friends. The people meant to protect you, who instead hurt you. Hook knew that Pan was the worst kind, but sometimes the cruelty of humans rivaled that of the demon's. Because Hook had seen things, had heard tales, had even fought on the behalf of those who could not defend themselves. Women and children both, Hook couldn't abhor violence and abuse of any kind done to them, was actually quick to fly into a rage and make the bulliying one a victim of his hook. Just like he wanted to do now, Hook wanting a throat before him he could strangle, a body he could sink his hook into. Because he had seen the look in young Emma's eyes, had heard the pain in her voice, as she had told him she could think of worse things than a beating being done to a child. 

It sickened and infuriated him, the thought of this girl being subjected to the far too many possibilities of human abuse. To the disgustingly inventive way a person's cruelty could be. His mind wanted to go down dark paths, Hook forcing himself to stay out of the shadows, to not ruminate too long on just what could have been done that would have been worse than a beating to this girl. Because there was far too many things, and Hook didn't think he could kill enough people to calm down, or absolve himself of his own crimes against the girl. Because wasn't he in fact as guilty as Pan, for failing to protect Emma and her lost boy brothers, for not even wanting to try because it always ended with Hook's own heart breaking just a little more? 

But disturbingly, his heart was already hurting, pained by the idea of the little blonde being eaten by Pan. Protesting the deception that Hook himself was committing, even as the pirate knew it was better for the girl to keep on believing in Pan's lies, if only to give her some peace of mind and maintain the illusion that she was finally somewhere safe. But believing he was doing the right thing, was harder then it first appeared, and sometimes Hook wondered if he'd ever be able to leave Neverland so long as Pan was free to steal and eat more children. And that was before Pan had started preying on girls! 

Hook couldn't even imagine why Pan would have decided to try something new now. Had his tastes finally expanded, or had he finally gain enough tolerance to negate whatever his long maintained aversion to eating females had been? Hook couldn't figure it out, couldn't imagine that Emma was anything special to the demon. He kept coming back to the monster's feeding habits, almost convinced this was a sign that Pan had tired of boys. 

Not knowing nearly enough to truly play Pan, Hook realized that Emma might not even be that good a bargaining chip to use as leverage to get what he wanted. But he would try all the same, and feel like a complete and utter bastard for hurting the girl. For being just another one to use and abuse her, because in handing her over to Pan, Hook would become just as rotten and ruthless as all the others that had hurt Emma, and children like her in the world. 

Was it any wonder that Hook was in hell, tormented and disturbed by the thoughts that he was having. Thoughts he tried to distract himself from, thoughts he couldn't truly justify even with the knowledge that there was nothing he, that anyone could do. Pan would do as he like, and Emma and the other lost ones would die. And Hook would grow closer to losing his mind, tormented by guilt, by his helplessness, damned no matter what he did, be it stand and fight, or sit back and do nothing. 

It was the worst position to be put in, the worst decisions to have to be made. Even once--if he left Neverland, Hook would never be able to forget the lost ones, haunted by Owen and Emma, and all the ones in between. 

Better to be the unfeeling bastard, to not care about anyone, then to go through this pain again and again. But Hook didn't know how to stop, couldn't shut off his heart, no matter how broken it was. That broken heart made him stupid, told him to do things Hook should never even consider. Told him to forget his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, take a stand against Pan, rather than barter Emma away on the off chance the demon would finally give Hook what he so desperately needed. A need he wasn't always sure of, the madness of what went on in Neverland affecting Hook, making him doubt what his true path was, if revenge was even worth it. 

And then Emma was noticeably flinching, Hook having slammed a book down too hard in response to his last thought. He realized the girl had been watching him, that try as she might to pretend a lack of interest, she had been quietly aware of Hook's every single move. His chaotic energy, his turmoil had agitated her in return, the girl on the edge of her seat as though preparing to flee at the first sign of trouble. Hook nearly laughed then, a bitter angry guffaw, because the girl SHOULD run. Should get as far away from him and Neverland as she could, and even that wouldn't be far enough, Pan able to fly just about anywhere. 

Darkly wondering what thoughts made Pan happy, Hook kept his hand on the book, trying to compose himself, trying for a calm he was now incapable of feeling. He was a better actor than Hook would have given himself credit for, the pirate turning to the girl and feigning a smile. 

"So..." He said out loud, and Emma fixed her green gaze on him. "How exactly did you expect a pirate to look?" 

It was clearly the last thing she had been expecting him to say, Emma's uncertain look heightened by the rapid blink of her eyes. 

"Well?" Hook asked, watching as Emma tried to shake off her unease. 

"Pirates are supposed to be bigger." She finally said. "With missing teeth, and a smell as rotten as their wicked hearts." She fidgeted in place, Hook arching an eyebrow in mocking reply. "With evil coloring your eyes, and the blood of the many you've slaughtered dripping off your hook, it's said you're unable to differentiate between friend or foe, not even caring to try, your looks as ugly as your soul." 

"Good God, is that what Pan tells you?" Hook asked, and the girl merely shrugged in response. "And here I was expecting you to spout nonsense about peg legs and parrots." Again she just shrugged, Hook drawing his eyebrows together with his frown. 

"You're supposed to have killed many of my brothers..." 

"Supposed to?" Hook sharply emphasized the word, and a pang of some feeling, guilt perhaps, struck straight through to his damaged heart. He wasn't the one to have killed any of the lost boys, but he hadn't been able to save them either. 

"Cut them up, or forced them over the plank. Turn them into chum for the sharks of the bay." Emma told him, her expression so serious and so solemn. Her eyes stared questioningly at him, as though searching for the truth that might write itself on his face. Hook couldn't stop grimacing, while shaking his head no. 

"If that is the kind of things Pan tells you, it’s no wonder that you are scared of me." 

"I am not scared!" Emma immediately, empathetically denied. "I was just..." She nearly blushed, looking away. "Startled by you." 

And yet they both knew the truth, Emma's inability to fly proof of the fear she had felt. The fear she might still have, Hook inwardly sighing, but not calling her out on it. 

"Well you can see for yourself, my hook is dry." But as clean and polished as it was, blood had tarnished it and his hand more than once. "And I don't smell, or have any missing teeth. My eyes don't glow for evil, and while I can't claim my soul to be clean, I don't think it is ugly enough to destroy my looks." 

Now she really did blush, the slightest tinge of pink on her cheeks as Emma quickly looked away from him. "Looks can be deceiving." 

How well Hook knew, an image of Pan's true face flashing briefly to mind. "That they can be...." he murmured in agreement, to Emma's surprise. "Especially here in Neverland..." 

"Not just Neverland..." She muttered, but did not elaborate, instead trying to shift the conversation to a new topic. "If Pan won't give you what you want...will...will you kill me?" 

"No, it's not by my hook that you will come to harm." 

"What of your crew?" Clever girl that she was, Emma wouldn't relax at his promises. "Will you order one of them to do it instead?" 

"It's not my crew you have to fear." Hook snapped. "None of them would truly consider hurting a child...I'd kill THEM myself if they did." 

Emma was frowning. "But you are supposed to be ruthless." 

"I AM." Hook told her. "But I am not without mercy and compassion." 

Her frown remained, and Hook could practically see her mind struggling with some concept. She'd still be thinking, when Smee entered through the open doorway, carrying a tray of the meal he had prepared. It was all sandwiches and finger foods, things you didn't need a fork or a knife for. Smee ever the worry wart, had seen to protecting his captain from the possible risk the girl posed, by eliminating the need for a meal's silverware. 

Trying not to openly laugh at Smee's needless concern, Hook took a seat at the table. The girl was across from him, eyeing the sandwiches with a mix of suspicion and hunger. 

"It's all right." Hook softly reassured her. "It's not poisoned." 

"Not yet, you mean." Emma retorted. "You won't kill me until I am no longer of any use for you." 

"The captain would never kill a child!" Smee snapped in outrage. "Not even a...." 

"Smee!" A snap of his own, Hook interjecting before Smee could finish the insult. Smee glanced at him, but his expression was sullen, the man not appreciating the need to hold his tongue, especially when he found the girl to be so needlessly insulting. 

"It's all right." Hook then said. "Pan has filled her head with stories of my blood thirsty nature." 

"Pan would do something like that." grumbled Smee. 

Emma was studying the sandwiches with such open yearning, that Hook wondered when was the last time she had eaten. "Go on." He urged her, and took a big bite out of his own sandwich. She watched him do it, and slowly, hesitantly, reached for one of her own. 

"It's good!" She exclaimed, and Smee put his hands on the hips. 

"Of course it is! Nothing but the best for the captain!" 

But Emma was too busy eating, almost ravenous in her actions. "Can't remember the last time I tasted something this good..." She muttered in between bites. 

"Doesn't Pan feed you?" 

"Oh he does, but none of my brothers are exactly known for their cooking skills." Emma said, with an exaggerated sigh. "Too often the meat they hunt is burnt, and tough to chew." She glanced at Smee, and gave a grudging acknowledgement. "You're good..." 

Smee didn't smile, but he didn't frown either. "Someone has to be, to keep the captain and his crew well fed." He stepped away from the table, already intent on setting the room to rights. Hook knew without asking, that the older man was keeping aware of what was going on, alert not only to danger but to any need his captain might voice. 

Normally enjoying being pandered to, there was times when Hook found Smee's doting to be annoying. Such time was now, Hook needing neither chaperon nor Smee's brand of protection from the girl. He certainly didn't for one second believe that the girl could get the best of him, that she could physically hurt him, though the pangs of his heart reminded him of how there were other ways Emma Swan could do damage. A damage Smee wouldn't be able to stop, no one would, so long as Hook allowed himself to care. 

"Smee, the room can wait for another hour." Hook spoke a dismissal that left the other man protesting almost immediately. He fell quiet at his captain's glare, shoulders sagging just a little, as Hook told him to go out and wait the crew's return. 

"Yes, captain." Smee muttered, glancing one last time at the girl. Hook knew without asking, that Smee's tongue would be wagging, informing the crew of the developments that had gone on in their absence, preparing them for the shock the girls' presence would otherwise have on the men. 

Hook also trusted Smee to convey his wishes, to make his desires known. The men weren't to agitate the girl, to upset her without reason, and most of all she wasn't to be touched. Hook didn't think his men sick enough to lust over a child, but young Emma wasn't quite that. She was only a few years short of grown, and was pretty enough that men who had been starved of women for too long, might just entertain bad ideas. The fear of Hook's wrath would keep them in check, though he couldn't help but wonder how many would be eager to attempt to trigger the girl into growing up. 

At best Emma's presence aboard the Jolly Roger was problematic. At worst it was a disaster, the girl in as much danger as she posed to hearts. Sad as it was, the sooner Pan came for her, the better off most would be. That might even include Emma, so long as she didn't grow up enough for Pan to eat her upon her return. 

Such worries made Hook grimace into his drink, the man again wondering what was Pan's game. Wondering if Emma was more pawn than meal, everything Hook thought he knew, coming away wrong. Hook couldn't grasp what Pan's true intentions were with Emma but clung stubbornly to what he did know. Pan ate children, boys in particular, cultivating their growth carefully, to capitalize on the energy and nourishment received. And yet Emma was the unknown element, the very fact that Pan had kept her existence a secret from Hook and his pirates troubling him. Emma was the first girl Hook had ever known Pan to show interest in, and that was important. HOW it was important, Hook couldn't figure out, but it was his hopes that by talking with Emma, he could somehow pry out some of her and Pan's secrets. 

How unfortunate for him that the girl was so wary! She ate his food, but watched him with a guarded expression, keeping quiet about her own thoughts and feelings. Hook had a feeling it would take more than charm to coax an answer out of her, and in the hunt for her secrets, he risked forming protective urges even stronger than the ones already in place! 

Again he hid a grimace into his drink, Hook both annoyed and yet grateful that Smee had seen to replacing his rum with something infinitely tamer. The apple cider was sweet, and had none of the kick of the rum, Hook needing all his senses to be able to deal with the girl. 

She had already finished her sandwich, seeming to delight in trying the different offerings Smee had put on the tray. Hook couldn't begin to imagine existing on a diet of meals cooked by an inexperienced hand, let alone the kind of food a bunch of children would try to make for themselves! 

"If you like, perhaps Smee can be persuaded to teach you a few secrets from his kitchen." 

Green eyes gazed back at him, the girl cautious. "Do you really think he would?" 

"He would with pressure from me." Hook told her. "Of course..." A casual sip of his cider. "It all depends on how long a time you'll be with us. I imagine Pan will be here soon. To get his...girl back." 

A frown before she nodded. "Peter WILL come for me." 

"So it's just a matter of waiting." Hook said. "Though really, I'm surprised he let you come here without him." 

"Peter doesn't LET me do anything." Emma retorted. 

"But is he not the master of the lost boys?" Hook asked, feigning surprise. 

"He's our leader yes, but that doesn't mean he's a tyrant. We're free to do as we like, mostly..." 

"Mostly?" Hook seized on the word, and Emma bit at her lip like she had just said something wrong. 

"Well..there are SOME rules..." She reluctantly admitted. "We're not complete savages you know!" 

Hook chuckled. "I would never go that far with such an insinuation. Though Pan lets his boys run so wild, that the idea of them having rules, let alone following them..." 

"The rules are for our safety." Emma interrupted. "Peter makes sure to look out for us all." 

"Yes he does keep a close eye on his group." agreed Hook with a nod. "Which begs the question, where was he when....I believe you said the boy's name was Galen?" She nodded. "Where was he when your Galen was in need of rescuing?" 

Another bite of her lip, Emma fingers fidgeting enough to crumble apart the flaky crust in her hand. 

"Normally Pan would have rushed into action..." Hook pointed out. "He wouldn't have sent a girl and such young boys to do his work for him." 

"I'm perfectly capable to rescue someone!" Emma snapped, adorable even at her most furious. "I got Galen away from you, didn't I?" 

"Galen IS Gone, but you've been caught in his place." Hook smiled. "And caught you will remain until Pan deigns to show up." 

"That can't happen soon enough for my liking." Emma grumbled, sitting back in her chair. 

That was something Hook had mixed feelings about, though his expression betrayed none of that to the girl. "I suppose the wait depends on Pan's whim?" A sly tone to his voice. "Or is it that the item I require will take time to locate?" He tried not to act too interested, hoping to lure her into revealing anything she might know. 

"You will never get it." Was all Emma said. 

"Then you know of it?" Hook leaned forward in his seat, his eyes intent on the little blonde. She frowned at him. 

"Know of it? When I don't even know what IT is?" 

Now Hook frowned. Damn Pan, and his secrets. Damn the Indian's shamaness too, for her cryptic words, and her overall inability to actually help Hook. What use would this something be, if Hook didn't know what it was, or what it looked like. How could he find it, and how could he trust anything Pan might give him, when Hook couldn't know for sure if that was the thing the shamaness had spoken of!

"Why do you want it?" 

"I need it." Hook answered her. "If I'm going to kill a demon...." 

"A demon?!" She squeaked out, her eyes going huge. 

"A very dangerous and despicable one." Hook nodded. "It's in the best interest of many, for that demon to die." 

"I..I didn't take you for the heroic type..." 

"I'm not, Emma." Hook told her. "I am completely self serving, this demon having taken something from me." 

"Something you mean to get back?" Emma asked, the green of her eyes alight with both interest and fright. 

"Oh no." Hook's smile flattened into nothing. "The something the demon took from me, can never be brought back." 

"Never?" Emma whispered, and Hook could just imagine how she was trying to figure out what could be so irreplaceable. But Hook didn't want to talk about Milah with Emma, didn't want to tell her of his lost, his grief. Didn't want to mention the hurt done to him, the torment he had suffered. 

Instead, he leaned forward, their eyes locked on each other. "There are things that can happen, things that once done cannot be undone. They leave their mark on us, change who we are. They affect our present, our past, even our future. They scar us, and yes it hurts, but sometimes it makes us stronger..." 

She seemed to shiver, most likely thinking of her own past, and whatever scars it had dealt out. "What....what did you lose to the demon?" 

Never taking his eyes off of Emma, he brought his hook over his chest. "My heart." He was remembering Milah as he said it, remembering the love that they had shared, and how he had felt as though it was his heart that had been crushed that day instead. 

"Your heart?" She squeaked in alarm, practically jumping up out of the chair. Hook didn't rise with her, remaining seated instead. "Then you really are an unfeeling monster?!" 

Feeling too much, that was the problem Hook faced! "I wouldn't go that far." Was the extent of the objection that Hook raised. 

"Then how far would you go?" Emma demanded. 

"To get what I want?" Hook inquired in a mild tone. He was refilling his glass as Emma nodded. "As far as needed, stopping at nothing." His look was bitter then. "Some things we do because they are worth doing, and some forces drive us because of need. It's need that drives me, that compels me to go to any lengths to take from Pan the thing I need to slay my demon!" 

"There must be a reason Peter won't give it to you then." Emma reasoned. "Some reason for you not to have it." 

"That is not for him or for you to decide!" snapped Hook, the glass angrily thumping on top of the table. Emma flinched at that, but Hook couldn't temper his anger in the moment. "I've waited roughly two hundred years for it, and no one, not you, not Pan will keep me from it!" 

They were glaring at each other, Emma looking just as fierce as Hook now felt. The time to coax out Pan's secrets had been lost, the girl worked up enough that she wouldn't feel comfortable in confiding in Hook any time soon. He had thoroughly botched the moment, letting his anger and resentments at the situation and of both Pan and Rumplestiltskin, make him speak in a way he shouldn't have. Forget about charming, he had been snarling at the girl, and her formidable guard was strengthening instead of weakening. 

No closer to understanding anything where Emma Swan was concerned, Hook was left confused on whether or not it would be better for Pan to come for her sooner than later. His unsettled feelings grew stronger, Hook sure trouble was being courted the longer Emma Swan stayed on his ship. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh. What a work out this chapter gave me. First I wrote roughly 11 KB, and realized it SUCKED. It felt very lackluster and rambly what I had written. So I trashed it, and started over. Luckily the starting over was just what I needed, and I ended up with the first 13 kb you saw. I'm very happy with that part. Then the conversation started, and it became an issue of the chapter that did not want to end. I had a real hard time to get to any thing that felt like a good ending point. Not sure I succeeded, and you can probably tell it didn't want to end, cause this is the longest chapter for this fic yet! About 30 KB in size, and normally my chapters are around 20/22 KB in size. I tend to consider anything under 18 KB short for me, and anything over 20 KB as long, but this went even longer than normal! XD 
> 
> Even with the problem seven gave me, I still like this chapter. I hope you do too!  
> 2/15/2018 the revision process continues, but now I need a nap at the very least. @_@
> 
> \---Michelle


	8. Eight

It wasn't a particularly violent motion, that of the slamming of the pirate's drinking glass onto the table. However it was loud and was sudden, the cider splashing over the glass' edge, and Emma just couldn't stop herself from flinching. Immediate was her response to that show of weakness, Emma narrowing her eyes into a glare at the pirate who wore a similar expression. But she wasn't angry with him. Not really. Not when it was she herself who had reacted, who had flinched with a fear that had been beaten into her. 

Fear was weakness. And weakness was something that she couldn't afford. Especially when dealing with an adult, a man who had just admitted to having no heart. A man who had claimed he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. In that moment, she believed him, Emma trying not to tremble, to not so much as shiver as she glared. Trying to stare him down as demons of her own reared up in her head. 

Heartless beings whose features were muddled, more than a dozen each and interchangeable save for one. The one she fought hardest to not remember, Emma's hand unconsciously clenching into a fist as she remembered the sizzle of the cigar, and the smell of burning flesh. The concentrated pain that had followed, Emma learning that there was things that hurt worse than a beating, and scarred one's soul for life. 

It was those moments, even decades later, with her tormentors long dead and buried, that left Emma shaking. Suppressing both the fear and the rage of being made to be helpless, Emma wondered if there would ever be a time when she would be truly free of her past. If she could ever forget what had happened, what had gone down around her, to instead be normal. She nearly laughed at that thought, because normal wasn't what she was, and normal didn't exactly fit into the life she now had. 

It was a life that she drew strength from, Emma composing herself. Drawing on happier memories, of times with the Lost Boys and Peter Pan. Of soaring through Neverland's skies, or dipping her toes into the lagoon while listening to the mermaids sing. Of unicorns and even mean old mister dragon, and rainbows and cartwheels, and leading her brothers into mock battle with the Indian braves. The more she thought about those things, the less angry and scared that she felt, Emma standing taller, unclenching her fist as she looked at Captain Hook. He must have been doing similar as she had, because the pirate wasn't looking anywhere as angry as he had been a few minutes ago, though his blue eyes still blazed with the heat of his fierce emotions. 

Emma couldn't help but study those eyes and the face they were set into. That handsome face that bordered on too pretty to be believed real. A masculine beauty she wasn't at all immune to, Emma was STILL shocked every time she looked directly at him. Because Hook was attractive to her, in ways a girl intent on not growing up should never have even noticed. Leaving her holding her breath every time his lips gave so much as a mere hint of a smile, Emma wanting to brush her fingers over his lips, and feel the hairs on his chin to see if they were soft or bristly to the touch. 

Fascinated by his looks alone, Emma couldn't help but also be impressed with his behavior towards her. He hadn't beat her for the mess she had made of his room, and even more astonishing, and just as important, he hadn't touched her in a wildly inappropriate way. And he had had ample opportunity to do so, given Emma had ended up in his arms when the pirate was trying to subdue her tantrums. 

That he hadn't tried to touch her breasts or her ass was downright amazing. Emma couldn't ever remember being around an adult, male or otherwise, who hadn't tried to hurt her in some way. Yet Hook had behaved himself, aside from the fact he was holding her prisoner, and he had even gone so far as to feed her! 

He talked with her too, not condescending, or in a perverted manner. He had yet to put her down with insults, might even have been sincere in his concern for her. Emma didn't understand exactly why he would be like this, why he wouldn't be like every other grown up she had ever known. That worried her for several different reasons, Emma sure there was some sort of trap he was setting, or angle the pirate was otherwise working. But she couldn't figure it out, not understanding what Hook would gain from being nice to her while waiting for Peter Pan's reply to his demands. 

Emma was already sure Peter wouldn't give in to Hook's demands. He wouldn't trade away whatever it was that Hook thought Peter had. Nor would Peter be content to let the pirates keep Emma as their prisoner. There would be a rescue mounted, and Emma couldn't help but worry for the fighting that would surely break out. Her band of brothers could be hurt or worse, for Hook was self admittedly ruthless, and a pirate, and apparently heartless. 

But was heartless such a bad thing? Emma wasn't so sure. The adults she had known, those wretches the foster system had dared deem suitable to be parents, had been cruel, and evil, and had seemed heartless to be able to do the things that they had done. But now Emma was wondering if you needed a heart, twisted though it might be, to be able to do such evil and take such enjoyment out of it. Because surely, enjoyment at such malicious behavior, still counted as feeling something, even if it was all wrong. Or maybe Emma was getting it all wrong, and Hook could and did do the things Peter had said, and did them because he had no heart. 

She just didn't know, and that left Emma unsettled in a way that had nothing to do with how Hook looked. Because she didn't know what to trust, what to believe, and how could she doubt even for one second what Peter had told her about Hook? Peter Pan wouldn't lie to her, not about this, not about a man who was so dangerous to Emma and the boys under Peter's protection. 

Emma knew what she was supposed to believe, who she was supposed to trust first and foremost. But some fickle piece inside of her was intent on Hook, on buying whole heartedly into whatever deceptions he was weaving. Making her want to discount that a smile could cover for the most cruelest of intentions, all her good senses and carefully built up instincts turned topsy turvey because she had found Hook's looks so pleasing. She could recognize it would have been better if Hook had lived up to Peter's descriptions, if the pirate had been as ugly as his soul was reported to be. Because then Emma wouldn't have been so dazzled, left staring at him so stupidly. 

Feeling very much like her head was turning to mush, Emma was caught unprepared for the soft sound of Hook's voice, the anger having leaked out of it and his expression. His voice speaking at a murmur, she watched as the pirate relaxed into his seat. With a cloth napkin in his hand, the pirate set about to polishing his already pristine looking hook, that action of his drawing Emma's eyes briefly to it. But it couldn't hold her attention for long, Emma more interested in looking at Hook's face, watching the way his lips formed those soft spoken words. Lulling her into relaxing as well, Emma settling back down into the seat she had abandoned, then leaning forward on the table in an attempt to better hear the actual words that Hook was speaking. 

First impressions of Neverland was the last thing she had been expecting, Emma listening as Hook talked about his pirates arrival far from any of the islands. How utterly alien and exotic it had seemed, this world of far reaching oceans, with only a few bits of land to break up an otherwise endless sea. 

"Even for us pirates, men who live and die on the seas, it was frightening." Hook was saying, still maintaining that soft murmur. "Our ships need ports to lay anchor at, the sea itself can only provide us with so much. And that was before we found out just how unforgiving Neverland's waters can be!" 

Emma shivered, thinking of the man eaters, the sharks and the kraken, and a whole host of other dangerous beasts that prowled the waters between the mainland and the smaller islands. Swimming wasn't a past time many if any enjoyed while in Neverland, though there was a few isolated patches of water, small lakes and waterfalls that were safe enough. 

"Some good men were lost..." continued Hook. "Before we glimpsed sight of the mainland. Shrouded in mist that day, we were almost upon it, before our lookout gave the alarm. We had to battle not just our curiosity, but our own ships, fighting to keep them off course of the tide that was so intent on drawing us closer to the treacherous rocks that littered the shallows' pathways." 

"Sailing has never been particularly safe, but here in Neverland? With waters we didn't yet know, with a mist as thick as soup? It was more than dangerous, it was damn near suicidal!" His hand kept on caressing his hook with the cloth, over and over until the silver positively gleamed. "It would take years before my crew could claim any sort of expertise on the kind of sailing these waters offered us." A slight quirk of his lips, Emma teased with the promise of a half smile. "But as you must know, in Neverland we have nothing but time." 

Emma slowly nodded. "Time..." She began. "Is the one thing we all have plenty of." 

"Indeed." Hook gave a nod of his own, his eyebrows drawing together in thought. "It wasn't what we hoped to find, but having time on our side, is not anything to scoff at." 

"And so you began your waiting game?" Emma asked. "For Peter to give you this...this thing that you need?" 

"Not quite." demurred Hook. "In those first days, we were just intent on surviving, on escaping the unpleasant situation of our home land." His eyes darkening at some memory he wasn't sharing, Hook gave a bitter laugh. "We were damned you see...." 

"Damned?" Emma couldn't stop from shivering, her eyes growing bigger at the very idea. 

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't." Hook muttered with a sigh. "We would have died for sure if we hadn't come to Neverland....but there was no guarantee of safety here. There still isn't...." 

"Maybe if you stopped making trouble..." Emma began her suggestion, only to stop at Hook's laugh. 

"Emma, we are pirates. Trouble is what we do." 

She couldn't help but frown at that. "But your trouble hurts people...." 

An odd look was in his eyes, but the pirate captain merely went on polishing his gleaming hook. He made no attempt to deny her point, nor tried to argue the merits of the pirates brand of trouble. A trouble the likes of which made Emma shiver, the girl remembering all Peter had told her. The killings and the torture, the raping and pillaging, and suddenly she was too aware of all the fine things laying littered about the room. Things that were most likely stolen, including the very food that she had just been eating. 

Abruptly Emma pushed the plate away from her. "You steal." She said flatly. 

"Oh aye, we do." Hook nodded. "Pan got that much right at least." 

"What is that supposed to mean?!" Emma demanded. Was it her imagination, or did Hook actually hesitate before answering. 

"Generally there's two sides to every story." Hook finally said. "Even more once the gossips get their tongues wagging. Even worse than that is those that speak out of malice, with an intent to do real harm." 

"Peter wouldn't lie!" Emma protested, cheeks flushing at Hook's scoff. "Not about this, and not to me!" 

"Peter sprinkles just enough of the truth in his stories." Hook retorted. "For every detail he gets right, another ten are all lies." 

"And what has he lied about?!" Emma practically growled with that question. 

"That we would torture and kill children." 

"No, you just kidnap and hold them prisoner!" Emma snapped. 

"Guilty as charged." Hook allowed. "It's desperate measures Emma....for desperate times. If Pan won't hand over what I seek nicely, than I have no choice but to force his hand in other ways." 

"Using me as hostage won't get you anything." Emma insisted. "You'll only bring down the wrath of Peter and my brothers...." She trembled with her emotions, her fear. "People may die...the fighting that breaks out because of your actions will get enough people hurt, that you might as well be as guilty of the things that Peter has said you do!" 

What was that look in Hook's eyes, that brief flash of pain as the man finally let go of the cloth napkin. It was almost like he was bothered by what Emma had said, like it troubled him more than Hook wanted. But his words didn't betray any inner turmoil, Hook leaning forward in his seat, his blue eyes intent on Emma. 

"Are you that valuable to Pan, that he would risk the other children in a fight with my pirates, to reclaim you?" 

"I....I..." Emma stammered a second, before shaking her head no. Her blonde hair all but bounced from the force of her movements. "He'd try to rescue me....he'd tried to save any of my brothers that were caught by you..." 

But Hook seemed dismissive of what she was saying, staring at her with such single minded focus. "Just who are you exactly, Emma Swan?" 

"I...." She didn't understand the question, her brow furrowing in worry. 

"Or should I ask what are you?" 

"What am I?" Emma repeated, her confusion plain in her eyes. "Nothing...I'm...nothing?" 

"I don't believe that for a second." Hook said. "And neither should you. Forget the very fact that Pan brought you to Neverland...no person should ever doubt their own self worth. You're not nothing Emma, don't ever forget that." 

"I...I won't..." Emma whispered, shaken by the pirate's words. It was the first time she could ever remember an adult speaking so passionately about her, the first time Emma wasn't told she was trash and worthless. Hook made Emma want to believe that she was more than nothing, that she wasn't just another unloved orphan, abandoned by her parents, left to suffer in a cruel world. It was a kind of praising reassurance that Hook gave her, different from the things Peter and the lost boys had often told her. 

The pirate's regard made her want to sit up straighter, Emma liking that Hook might think her of worth. It was almost as though the pirate's opinion mattered to her, as though Emma wanted to impress Hook as much as he had done her. But before she could truly bask under his praise, Hook resumed his questioning speculations. 

"Haven't you ever wondered WHY Pan brought you to this land?" 

"Peter has brought many orphans to Neverland." Emma countered. "Why should I be any more special than any of my brothers?" 

"You've never wondered why there are no other girls amongst Pan's troop?" Hook asked. 

"I've wondered..." She reluctantly admitted. "I've even asked Peter about that." 

"And what did he say?" 

A memory came to her then, just a brief flash of Peter standing before her, insisting to Emma that it had had to be her. An insistence Emma hadn't bothered to question too deeply, an insistence she might have even taken pleasure in. She rather liked being the only girl among the lost boys, their beloved big sister who they could count on and support. But Emma didn't share any of this with Hook, merely lifting her chin with a stubborn look in her eyes. 

"I don't think I should tell you." 

Too late did Emma realize her words were as good as admitting to something vital about herself. She didn't know what that vital thing was, or how it could be of use to the pirate, but Emma felt as if she had fallen headfirst into Hook's trap. Her eyes began to narrow, Emma angry and expecting Hook to gloat. But he didn't, not even bothering to smile in triumph. Instead he just stared at her, and the disturb look in his eyes was one that was unmistaken. Hook was bothered by her, by what reason Peter might have had for bringing Emma to Neverland. That look unsettled her, Emma suddenly wondering if she should have been questioning more closely the hows and whys of her being the only girl among Peter's band of rescued orphans. 

"I made a wish." She whispered aloud, more to herself than Hook. "Every night since I was eight years old..." 

"Wishes are powerful." Hook acknowledged. "And can be dangerous." 

"This one wasn't....." But Emma felt uncertain now. She didn't like that just one encounter with the pirate could set her doubting Peter and the reasons why the boy had brought her to Neverland in the first place. Because suddenly she was wondering things, wondering how she could be the only girl amongst the lost boys. There was no Peter Pan around to distract her from these type of questions, Emma thinking harder than she had ever been allowed to, here in Neverland. 

But there was no answers to be found in this room, Hook as curious as she now was. Leaving Emma confused, even conflicted, the girl suddenly doubting the one thing she had been so sure of. And with that doubt came fear, Emma not wanting the only happiness she had ever known, to be ripped from her. But even as she would fight against that fear, the doubt would remain. A domino effect was now in place, one that might ultimately lead to Peter Pan's downfall, or to her own. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a nightmare to try to write. I was so frustrated for the last two and a half nights. I could have cried I was stressing myself so bad. I put way too much pressure on myself, but I was so stuck on the damn conversation! *bangs head* I'm at a point in the fic I don't like...like in terms of trying to write it. I need to work on relationships, specifically Hook and Emma's, and I feel like I am going out of my mind to try and write that part, and it's only the first day of her being on the Jolly Roger ship! X_X 
> 
> I'm extremely eager to get to the part when all hell breaks loose. But that won't be for a while yet. So many plans, but not much formed for this part of the story. ARGH! I wanna thank Zerousy for hand holding and trying to get me to breathe while I rant and raved and went absolutely crazy trying to write this damn chapter. Thanks hon for talking with and trying to calm me down, and even trying to make conversation suggestions. It is appreciated more than I can properly convey! 
> 
> This has not been a productive week and a half. *hangs head* and then the second episode of the new season is making me want to write a similar tale that is more in cannon to what I think Peter is intending to do to Emma on the show! But I've resisted the urge to do that. I totally smiled when Hook stated that Pan is a demon just like I had him think that in my story. XD 
> 
> Updated with revisions on 2/16/2018! Onwards!
> 
> \----Michelle


	9. Nine

There were things that Hook had told himself, promises that he had made upon meeting the girl. And though those promises had gone unspoken, the weight of them was no less. He wondered which was the heavier burden, keeping quiet for the girl's own good, or that of revealing all. Either one led to the same outcome, the girl dead, murdered at Pan's hand. Neither one could stop the inevitable, but maybe just maybe keeping quiet could delay it. 

Only he wasn't doing a good job at keeping quiet. Hungry for answers, far too curious about the girl, and Pan's plans for her, Hook had been pushing Emma for answers. Wanting to know the how and why of her existence in Neverland, he hadn't been able to resist planting a seed of doubt in her. And though it was a long way from blooming, the girl was already distraught, the distant look in her eye hinting at the thoughts that were troubling her. 

Unhappy, Hook curled his fingers around the stem of his glass. But he didn't drink. He just stared at the girl, and wondered how in the world he was going to avoid becoming attached to her when already he liked her. And yet it wouldn't matter how strong that like was, so long as that burning curiosity kept trying to lead them both down paths best left unexplored. Emma didn't want to grow up, and Hook didn't want to see her get killed. Yet both would eventually happen, and Hook would be damned before he himself triggered the change in her. 

And yet the questions still remained. What was she to Pan? And could Hook really use her, bartering her away as though Emma was nothing but a means to get to that which he needed? Could he be even half as ruthless as Hook had made claims of being, or was he growing soft, actually weakening the longer that he remained in Neverland? Hook just didn't know, might even be afraid of the answers. Because either way, strong or weak, it left Hook as a person he didn't like very much. He didn't want to be so soft as to give up on his revenge, but neither did he want to be so uncaring and ruthless as to sacrifice child after child! 

Things had been so much simpler before Hook and his pirates had come to Neverland. Before they had discovered the nature of the demon, before they had learned just what Pan chose to feed on. That period had been all too brief, but the moment of clarity had never been stronger, Hook's purpose clear. To find the means to destroy Rumplestiltskin, Hook never looking back. Never deviating for a second in his broken heart over what he had to do. Never that is, until after he met Owen, and others boys like him. 

It wasn't until he met the children, until he had learned what was being done to the lost ones, that Hook had begun to suffer a crisis of conscience. Wondering how he could leave Neverland yet wondering how he could NOT, Hook wanted Pan dead almost as much as he wanted the same for Rumplestiltskin. Cursing both demons, and wishing he had never set sail into Neverland, Hook felt pulled in two directions, maybe even three. Because he might just go crazy if Pan kept on feeding off of children, Hook unable to stomach what was really going on under the demon's watch. 

These kind of thoughts he had had a million times over, Hook going round and round in circles, and never coming away with a definitive answer. He might brood for forever and a day, and still not have any idea over what he should really do. He might still be brooding now, if not for the sounds intruding into the cabin. Aided by the open porthole window by his bed, Hook could hear the greeting shouts of his returning crew. They were glad to be back, but it was more than that from the sound of it, the men most likely having had a huge success in their hunting. 

It meant the pirates would be busy preparing the meats, skinning and salting them, preserving rather than eating it all at once. Depending on how big a haul they had pulled in, the pirates might not have to go ashore for a few weeks' time, and the meat would be supplemented with what fish they could nab from the sea. There would also be fruits, and maybe even some nuts, some from what the pirates had managed to forage, but most of it would be from their existing stores. 

Life in Neverland was vastly different from the life Hook and his pirates had once known. There wasn't much if any contact between the main land and the islands, the seas too dangerous for those without a real ship. Without a regular source of ships to loot from, and trading cut off to them, Hook and his pirates had had to learn to be self sufficient. When not keeping their food supplies well stocked, the Jolly Roger pirates were often found tending to other tasks, ones once thought beneath them. Some, like the making of the crew's beer, was met with little if any complaint. But others, like that of making and repairing clothing, were not a job any of his pirates particularly enjoyed. 

There was always something to do, no matter how big or a small, nearly all the jobs important. The pirates had adapted to this new way of life, though those that had been too vocal with complaints, soon found their attitudes changing, or else they had ended up dead. But even those who didn't complain much, would be glad for a chance to leave this cursed place. Some might be hardened enough to not even look back, to not even spare one thought to the children that they would be leaving behind. 

But not Hook! Already haunted by Owen and those like him, the pirate would never be able to forget, no matter how far away he might sail. His revenge, already so steeped in blood, would always be tainted by the knowledge of Neverland, of what had gone on, of what still went on. The very weapon that he hoped to barter for, paid for in children's lives, everyone, even Hook held hostage to Pan's whims. 

A big game to the demon, the children suffered the costliest price of all. Hook wanted done with it, wanted away before he lost what was left of his own sanity, insisting to himself that he remained in Neverland only to get that which Pan had. The thing Hook needed so desperately, and even once Pan handed it over, it didn't mean an immediate end of the pirates' time in Neverland. Not unless they found a way to escape without flying! But without another bean from their home land, the pirates would have to rely on the magic of pixie dust. They didn't yet have nearly enough of the dust to make all five ships flight ready, maybe they never would. But it was a problem to figure out once--IF Hook got a hold of that thing from Pan that the Indian Shamaness had once spoken of. 

He didn't know nearly enough about it but Hook didn't spare time to wonder now what sort of form this weapon would take. He just hoped it would lead Rumplestiltskin to as slow and painful a death as Milah's had been quick and sudden. That was all that mattered as far as the weapon was concerned, making Rumplestiltskin suffer for what he had done to Hook and to Milah. 

He smiled then, a sadistic pleasure filling him as he imagined Rumplestiltskin writhing in pain. The girl had noticed, though Emma couldn't possible know just what was the reason behind his smirk. But it left her shivering all the same, the girl glaring all the harder to cover her unease. It was enough of a reaction to have the pleasure ebb from him, Hook's grin waning. He could recognize the signs of some kind of abuse, the girl wary of him, and of his moods. As bothered as she was by his anger, Emma seemed even more disturbed by that smile he had just worn. As though she knew enough to recognize the signs of a man taking pleasure at the thought of hurting someone. 

Never a champion to those who would bully and abuse children and women, Hook had to control the anger that hit hard every time he so much as thought of Emma knowing of such torments. A girl like her should never have known to fear a smile, no matter the reason behind it's cause. Nor should she be sent flinching at the motion of a glass slamming down, recoiling as though every sudden sound was the signal of something bad about to happen. 

The signs were all there, and Hook wanted to know. But it would grant nothing but heartache, both his concern and curiosity hardly beneficial. To himself or the girl, because Hook could change nothing, could barely affect her present let alone her future. He understood that, yet Hook still wished it could be otherwise. 

And with that wish in his heart, Hook tried to push aside his round about way of meddling. It would take days of such restraint, before Hook could say if he would have met with any success on that front. He couldn't know the damage he had already done, inadvertent or otherwise, time having started in this room for a young Emma Swan. It wouldn't be stopped, it's one and only controllable aspect being that of how fast it would now flow. 

It all equaled to desire, here in Neverland. The very nature of the realm was built on it, the wishes of one's hearts warping time. Slowing, even outright stopping it, many wishing for the one thing few if any one had enough of. Time. Even Hook had wished for it, wanting the time to be able to live long enough to not only find that which he needed to kill Rumplestiltskin, but to be able to actually use it. And with that desire in his heart, the bean had led him to the one land where he would have time in abundance, three hundred years passing and Hook not having aged a day. He'd go on in that frozen existence so long as his revenge went unfinished, time stopped so long as his heart's desires remained unfulfilled. 

But a new desire, one he didn't always acknowledge, was in his heart. A desire harder to ignore, when faced with the girl sitting across from him. If he let it, his desire for Pan to be brought to an end, might be a powerful enough wish for Hook to live forever. Because forever was how long he'd be left waiting, Hook convinced Pan was unstoppable. Believing that the day would never come, that Pan's reign of terror would never end, didn't make it any easier for Hook. The drink he was tasting suddenly turning sour, Hook setting the glass down far more gently than he had wanted to. 

Hoping none of his inner thoughts and anguish showed, Hook gave Emma a smile that was far friendlier than the one that had so clearly unsettled her just moments ago. She still looked wary of it, her guard up though her glare seemed to lose some of it's fire. She wasn't that focused on the sounds drifting into the room, more alert to the man before her, than any perceived threat the noisy pirates outside the cabin might make. 

Hook was listening to the sounds too, a background noise of glad shouts and jeers. His pirates were in a celebratory mood. Hunting must have gone very well indeed, Hook smiling more at the thought of avoiding the mainland for any length of time. 

"It seems my crew has had a great success." 

The suspicion in her eyes was almost enough to make Hook laugh. Emma practically hissing out her question. "A success at what?!" 

"At their hunting of course." Hook answered, already rising from his seat. She immediately moved to stand, her gaze on him at all times, tracking Hook's every movement. "The deer and the foul shall be a welcome break from all that fish that Smee has been stuffing down our gullets." 

Emma was left blinking in confusion. "Are you complaining about the wonderful tasting food that man has made?!" 

"You haven't tasted true heaven until you've had Smee's veal." Hook answered in all seriousness. "Especially after a steady diet of a week's worth of fish!" 

"That's a week I would gladly suffer." Emma muttered, and Hook's smile nearly lost some of it's glow to his private displeasure. 

"We'll see about getting you set up to learn some of Smee's culinary magic." Hook told her.   
Especially if you're to be with us for any length of time...." Smoothly he turned the conversation back to a question that wouldn't prove problematic for her growth. "Just how long do you think Pan will take to give an answer?" 

She visibly hesitated, shifted her gaze to the side. Shrugging and evasive, Emma practically murmured too soft to hear. "Not an answer I can guess at." 

"Ah well...even if he was gearing up to mount a rescue, I expect he'd be here by day's end." Emma basically fidgeted in place, still refusing to look directly at him. "What?" Hook asked, not wanting to give in to the suspicion that was now rising within him. 

"What.....what if Peter's not here by day's end?" Emma ventured with a quick look at his eyes. "What then?" 

"Emma...." Hook started to approach her. "Just why wouldn't he..." Abruptly he changed his line of thought. "Why wasn't he the one to come rescue your friend Galen? Why did he let you, someone he clearly went to a lot of trouble to keep secret, come here instead?" She seemed to fidget more and more at his questions, but Emma didn't try to flee as Hook drew near. She actually went so far as to let him use the curved part of his hook, to lift her chin up, Hook staring hard into her eyes as he breathed out the revelation. "He doesn't know..." 

"He will soon...eventually..." Emma allowed, and he could feel the nervous vibration of her body standing so close to his. 

"Eventually?!" Hook didn't fight his grimace. "He's doing it again....he's gone hunting..." He had to breathe out the words slowly, to hide his growing horror. Emma still looked at him strangely. 

"He's searching for one of my brothers who has gone missing." 

"Missing....right..." Hook choked on the words, stepping away from Emma. He was in need of a drink, and wanted something a lot stronger than the cider Smee had provided. 

"He'll probably be back within a week's time." Emma added, but she didn't sound so certain of that. "Just as soon as he can...." 

"Can what?!" Hook demanded, morbidly curious as to what sort of lie Pan told to cover what he was really doing. 

"He just needs to make sure Evan is okay." Emma finished. Hook couldn't help himself, he made a scoffing sound at that. Which only served to make Emma frown and become defensive. "There's a chance he might have grown up, but there was also the chance that he got caught." 

"I can assure you, your Galen was the only lost one we were holding prisoner on our ship this morning." 

"Evan has been gone longer than a day." Emma whispered. "We...Peter has to be sure he's okay. That he's not caught, or laying somewhere hurt...." She started to hug her arms around her, shivering. "Peter won't give up until he knows there's no chance of Evan returning to us." 

Privately Hook thought it was all an excuse for the demon to feed at his leisure, maybe even buy some time away from the children he lived amongst. But Hook wouldn't, couldn't say such things to Emma. He couldn't even tell her how he hoped with all his heart that Pan wouldn't find the missing boy, that he wished fervently that Evan would be the first to escape the fate the demon had intended for the child. But neither would he lie and make claims of hoping the boy would be found, Hook instead trying to distract her from the trouble in her heart. 

"Well, Emma, are you brave enough to meet my crew?" 

Her eyes still troubled, Emma drew herself taller, and stopping hugging herself. "I am. But are they brave enough to meet ME?!" 

Hook couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I don't know how brave they'll be, meeting their first lost girl. Especially one fierce enough to fight with their captain." 

"It wasn't much of a fight." She protested, but looked pleased by his praise. 

"Tell that to the parts of me that still hurt from your knee!" Hook told her, surprised to see the faint blush on her cheeks. But she didn't try to apologize, and he understood why. Emma had been fighting, to remain free, maybe even scared enough to think she was fighting for her life. He couldn't demand she be sorry for that kind of reason, and Hook might even admire her for her desperate descent into such dirty tactics. 

"I dare say you'd have me at your complete mercy if you had held on to your sword." continued Hook, and Emma's lips quirked at their corners, as though she was fighting a smile. 

"You tease me." 

"Perhaps. But you have the makings of a good form...you just need a better teacher." 

"Like you?" She asked, and Hook allowed himself to nod. 

"I doubt there's any finer a swordsman than me in this land." Hook couldn't help but be boastful. "But you'd best be concentrating on your cooking lessons with Smee before you turn a thought to dueling ANYONE on this ship." 

"And why not?" Emma demanded, hands on her hips, her pose one of pure defiance. 

"You can't fight without your sword. And that's something I'll be keeping a close eye on." Hook told her. 

Emma looked at though she was close to scowling. "Afraid I'll take command of your ship?" 

"At the very least one of the row boats." Hook retorted. "Along with a few men needed to row it." 

He could see Emma liked that, that of the thought of fighting her way off the ship. Liked it enough that she might be tempted enough to try it, should she get her hands on a sword. It just made Hook more determined to keep such a weapon out of her reach, though a part of him wondered if it would be easier to just let her go. As if once out of sight, she'd be out of his mind and his worry. It was never that simple, Hook already knowing from too much past experience, that that was never the case when it came to the lost ones and their sad, sad fates. 

But Hook refused to ruin the light hearted mood they had attained with thoughts of a darker, more unfortunate nature. Instead he once again offered his arm to her, and she took it, her lips still fighting the smile that had wanted to come out. He found himself waiting for it, anticipation almost anxious, for Emma was an already lovely looking girl, whose looks would only improve should she deign to grant Hook with one of those long denied smiles. 

Not knowing if her smile alone was enough to win hearts or break them, Hook wasn't entirely eager to share the experience of Emma with his crew. He had enjoyed their time together, and could admit to being leery of his crew's reaction to the girl. Especially one who was nearly a woman, and so pretty a one at that! Hook knew he would be busy enforcing his threat, making sure that no one did anything untoward to the girl, or attempted behavior that would trigger her growth process. So busy would Hook be trying to protect the girl from the other men, it would dawn on him too late the danger he himself posed to her. The danger that had started the second he had stared into her face, and triggered her awareness of him. The die had been cast, time ticking anew to the beat of Emma Swan's heart. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! This chapter was MUCH easier to write. I tried writing some yesterday....but had only three hours sleep, so ended up trashing much of what I wrote in the first draft. I had gotten stuck on the conversation, but reworking it fixed the getting stuck problem. Hooray! 
> 
> So basically, except for a few of the opening paragraphs, everything else was written all today. So that is fast, considering how I struggled with eight over the course of like half a week. X_X 
> 
> Now I am debating how to handle ten. Mainly I'm wondering if I will have it be a Emma POV, and do sorta..not a flash back per se, but her thinking briefly on how she met the other pirates. Sorta like a timeskip to the morning of the second day of her being on the Jolly Roger. But we'll see...Mainly I worry that I won't have enough for a whole chapter if I do the meet the crew thing...but also worry that the first day is taking too long. Kinda like dying at the thought of each day ending up detailed over eight or ten chapters. X_X 
> 
> Also a side note...when I said I had an idea that was more canon, you guys misunderstood me. I didn't mean I was changing this story. I meant I had an idea that was more canon to what I think might happen on the show, and it would be a different story, a story written in addition to this one. An idea that has a similar premise, but would have Snow White and Charming and maybe Baelfire/Neal involved with Emma, Hook, and Pan. So no....this story isn't affected by that story, and I have been resisting starting the second story. Resisting a couple of story ideas at the moment.....But my plot bunnies are soooooooooo out of control for my Once ships! XD It's already such a juggling act....X_X 
> 
> \----Michelle


	10. Ten

Peter Pan had planted a lot of ideas in young Emma Swan's head especially where the pirates had been concerned. Ideas that had the truth twisted, making the pirates far worse than what they were in reality. Yes they were criminals, yes they stole, maybe even killed, but neither were the pirates the monsters Peter had made them out to all be. They were people first and foremost, individuals with their own quirks and personalities. Maybe not all of them liked children, but few if any would ever think to kill one. And even if that had, Hook wouldn't have allowed that kind of scum among his pirates, the man insisting at the very least that none of his men stand for a child to be abused, let alone tortured or killed. 

But of course Emma didn't know that about Hook, and in truth she would have misinterpreted such good intentions. She wasn't yet ready to believe in the idea of an adult who was good, who might be kind to a child without some selfish motivating need of their own. Emma couldn't believe, but it still didn't stop her from being impressed by the pirate captain, Emma unwittingly attracted to him for his behavior as well as his looks. 

She couldn't immediately say the same for his band of pirates, not all of Hook's crew as pleasant to look at. There was only a small handful of men that could in any way be considered good looking, and only one who came close to rivaling Hook's brand of handsome. That one, a pirate who went by the name of Rauol, still fell a million miles short of Hook's pretty brilliance. But with his own gypsy dark looks and brown eyes, Rauol had never had a problem picking up on Hook's leavings where both women and treasure was concerned. 

He wasn't the only one, and while most of the pirates couldn't claim half the successes of Rauol when it came to the fairer sex, their pockets were bloated with enough gold and jewels to buy their way into a woman's affection. Some might be rich enough to start their own small harems, their wealth having accumulated over the many years that the pirates had spent in Neverland. There may not have been any ships to plunder, but there was still always treasure to be found. And Hook's pirates had discovered most of it, in their quest to find the key to Hook's revenge, and a way home. 

Of course all that money and jthose ewels were of little use in Neverland. The dwarfs and the elves wouldn't sell to the pirates, and the Indian Tribes had never been greedy for gold. They had liked some of the prettier bits of jewels, but they hadn't been so desperate for what they considered nothing more than shiny bits of glass to overlook the kidnapping of their princess. With no one to buy from or trade with, all that treasure went unappreciated, stowed away in the hopes that one day they would return home and be able to finally spend it. 

Many of the pirates would be able to at last retire, though most would not. They simply couldn't ignore the call of the sea, the adventure of it, and the new plunder waiting to be found. They wanted home, but more than that, they wanted a return to their way of life. That meant the things, the ships both prey and competition, and most of all the women. It had been too long since these pirates had dealt with anyone not of the demon and his band of boys, or touched things that they hadn't made with their own hands. 

They were longing for the creature comforts of the Enchanted Realm, and though Hook hadn't made a point of stressing the importance of Emma Swan being on the Jolly Roger, they sensed it all the same. She was important, special if only because of what she was. Female, and lovely, and frustratingly a few years too young for anyone to fully appreciate all that she could offer. 

Even as young as she was, Emma was still a temptation. The pirates warned by Smee, still had to school their reactions, still had to keep from stopping what they were doing to instead openly gape and stare. It helped that Hook stood besides her, his blue eyes fierce with a glower that spoke of pain and punishment to any who did wrong to the girl. Many wouldn't go against his wishes, knowing it was the quickest way to end up at the sharp end of his hook or worse. Too many who had tried to mutiny while in Neverland had ended up as chum for the beasts that swam Neverland's seas. 

It left only the smart ones, or at least the ones with enough sense to preserve their own hides. Loyal because there was often little other choice, none came close to Smee. That pirate was the oldest of the group, with his hair long since graying. He hadn't started out as a pirate, but once captured and forced into the way of life on the seas, Smee had quickly realized just whp to place his trust and loyalties in. 

The oldest of the pirates, he was loyal to a fault when it came to Hook, and absolutely, overly protective of the captain's interests. He hadn't been there to see the tempest that was the love story of Hook with his Milah, but Smee had seen the aftermath. The heart ache and grief Hook had gone through. Letting it haunt him, motivate him, everything that Hook did in the long run a response to it. 

Privy to so many things, Smee was aware of how easily Hook let his heart get involved with lost causes. And no causes were as lost as the children Peter Pan brought to Neverland. And that included the girl, Smee watching her first with suspicion, then with real concern. Because he knew the path Hook was fighting against, the lost cause that would break his heart just a little bit more when Pan killed the girl for growing up. 

Wanting to protect Hook from the heartbreak of Emma Swan, Smee was not at all fond of the girl. Something she was aware of, though Emma didn't understand the true reason behind Smee's dislike. She wouldn't have much cared either, but one taste of his food had been enough to make Emma want to be on Smee's good side. If only to pry from him the secret of his cooking success. 

Determined to be a quick study, Emma was all too happy to follow Smee into the ship's galley at Hook's insistence. Smee had grumbled, but allowed it, well aware the captain needed to spend as little time with the girl as possible. Cooking lessons would take up some of that time, but not all of it, Smee wondering how he was going to run interference between his captain and the girl in the coming days. 

He'd soon have his hands full with the first of Emma's lessons, Smee finding that if the girl had ever known anything about cooking, she had forgotten it all over the years spent with the lost boys. It was a small miracle she could even boil water, though Smee couldn't help but admire how earnestly she threw herself into the learning. She WANTED to learn, was eager for it, and so long as Smee was showing her how to do things, she didn't act the brat. Smee realized he could have liked this girl, if not for the worries and fears he had still for his captain over her. 

If it was up to Smee, he would have kept Emma locked away from Captain Hook. It didn't matter where, be it the galley or down in the ship's brig. If he could have, Smee would have dropped her off on an island, anywhere that was far far away from Hook. But he couldn't, wouldn't actually harm the girl. It was his own morals at work, Smee priding himself on being kind to ladies, even the small ones like Emma. 

And with Emma openly heaping praise, and devotion to Smee's skill with food, even the old man was slowly being won over by her, though he would never admit it. He kept his exterior gruff, even as inside he worried and thought it unfortunate that this girl would go the way of the lost boys. She was such a bright, vivacious creature, that it was hard to imagine her light being snuffed out. But Smee didn't doubt for one second that Peter Pan would go through with it. Something he feared the captain was in real need of reminding. 

He was especially of that opinion when the night's meal time was upon them, Hook having sat young Emma to the right of him at his table. The top members of the crew were normally the only ones allowed such a privilege, and yet there she was, looking far too at ease with her guest of honor position. Too at ease for Smee's comfort, the man of the opinion that Emma should have been regulated to the position of servant, or better yet prisoner. But he wasn't the captain, it was Hook's decision to make, fool hardy a mistake as it so clearly was. 

Emma for her part, knew nothing of what was troubling Smee. She had enjoyed what she hoped was the first of her cooking lessons with the man, and felt real pride to see the pirates eating the vegetables she had steam cooked with her own two hands. Of course it wasn't the main choice of feast for the pirates. That was reserved for Smee's veal, the pirate having insisted Emma only watch as he had prepared the choice cuts of meat. She hadn't missed a second of it's preparation, trying to memorize everything Smee had been doing. She wasn't yet confident she could replicate the skill the old pirate had, but she knew seasoned veal would go over a lot better than steamed cooked vegetables with her brothers. 

Those brothers she missed, and felt real worry for. She knew they would miss her something terribly in turn, and would most likely be too frightened to even try to mount a rescue on their own. She felt bad for them, but Emma was glad they wouldn't try for any heroics. It would be hard enough to escape without having to worry about a brother or two, let alone without having to mount a rescue of someone who had come to rescue her. 

If it had been the older of the lost boys, those around her age, Emma wouldn't have any had cause for doubt. She knew the older lost boys could take care of themselves, with or without Peter, Those older boys would have been able to handle a rescuing of her, even against pirates But Emma wasn't entirely content to just wait around to be saved. She considered herself strong and capable, and smart enough that she's get around the problem of not being able to fly or swim to the mainland. In the meantime she would enjoy the pirates' hospitality, and learn everything she could of Smee's cooking talents. 

She wanted as many of Smee's culinary secrets as she could get, Emma learning once more how good meat that wasn't burnt, and that had been seasoned, could be. She was also appreciating the foods that were rare treats, things they only got when they visited among the different peoples of the land. Emma didn't have much use for dwarven or elven food, but the people of the many Indian Tribes of Neverland always, always had had some quite normal things that were practically delicacies to the lost boys. Things like freshly baked bread, or pie, and Emma really wanted to know how to make those flaky pastries she had enjoyed during lunch with Hook. 

This time on the pirates ship was one of a rare opportunity. Peter had never allowed Emma and the lost boys to mingle long with the other natives of Neverland. Especially the adults. He would never have even considered allowing Emma or any of her brothers to take time out from playing, to go with the adults and learn something at their hands. In this Emma thought Peter was too strict, the boy overly protective of his family when it came to the potential evils that the adults could do. 

Emma knew Peter would have a fit if he knew she was with the pirates. That she was doing more than just being their prisoner. He had always stressed how imperative it was to stay away from the pirates, though now that she had met them, Emma couldn't completely understand the danger. The pirates just didn't seem as bad as Peter Pan had claimed. If anything they reminded her of the lost boys, as though her brothers had finally grown up and become this unruly, rowdy bunch. And though they were very loud at dinner time, and perhaps drinking more than she was comfortable with, Emma wasn't particularly scared anymore. It wasn't that she felt safe, but she didn't feel threatened, especially with Captain Hook at her side, Emma sure the man was working to protect her if only because it suited his purpose. 

She still didn't think Peter had what Hook wanted. Nor did she think Peter would have handed it over, if he had had it. But she couldn't help but wonder about it, wonder what it was, what it did, and where it could be. Emma even wondered if there would be peace in Neverland once--if Hook got a hold of it, though that wouldn't have made Peter Pan happy. Peace would have been such a boring adventure, Peter preferring excitement and fun for his family, rather than safe and calm. 

Peter was always thinking, always looking for the next adventure for Emma and the lost boys to have. Normally she didn't mind this, kept too busy with the fun and the danger and the general insanity that was her life, to do much serious thinking. About anything, but especially about thoughts that would have troubled and upset Peter. But now new lines of thought were forming, not all yet explored, but were there all the same. Some of it was planted by Hook himself, the girl wondering just as much as the pirate had as to why Peter had gathered near exclusively male children. For that matter, Emma was wondering why Peter hadn't a single child from the Indian Tribe, or that of the dwarves of the elves. Why had he always sought out children from other worlds?

She was even wondering about the existence of other worlds, about the lands beyond her own and that of Neverland. Emma was allowing her long denied curiosity free reign, Hook in effect having taken a tiger out of it's cage. Her thoughts ran all over the place, finding threads that Hook hadn't yet had to supply, including ones that picked away at Peter's truth. And though there was pirate laughter and cheers all around her, Emma thoughts went over her lunch with Hook until she abruptly set down the fork Smee had reluctantly allowed her to use. 

The fork's clatter on her plate didn't register over the din of noise that the jovial pirates were making. Most kept right on with their own conversations, and some were already well on their way to being drunk. But Hook wasn't, having noticed Emma's reaction though he couldn't have known it was a thought that had jolted her into frowning. 

"You are not from Neverland." 

Hook paused before nodding, draining his glass half empty under Smee's disapproving eye. "We're not." 

"But Peter said...." She kept on frowning, Emma shaking her head as though trying to dislodge a thought. "The pirates have always been a part of Neverland." 

"I can assure you we have not." 

Her brow furrowed, the truth drifting in reach, though it was impalpable, the idea that this was something that Peter Pan could have lied about. His eyes studying hers, Hook's expression was a mask that hid his own thoughts on the matter, the pirate not trying to relieve Peter of any guilt. 

"We've only sailed these waters some three hundred years." 

"It just feels like forever." complained the bald headed pirate, who was named Mason, and had tattoos all along his torso, all the way right up to his neck.

 

"The day can't come soon enough when we get to leave." muttered another pirate, one whose name Emma didn't yet know. But his mutterings were picked up by the other pirates, many raising their mugs in toast of the idea of leaving Neverland. 

"You're not going to stay?" Emma asked, glad to let the idea of the pirates leaving distract her from the fact that Peter might have lied. 

"This is not now, nor will it ever be our home." Hook answered. 

"Home..." Emma murmured, then louder asked, "Then what is home to you?" 

Before Hook could answer, there was the pirates speaking. In voices loud with excitement, some sighing with longing, they began speaking of things, even people. It wasn't any one person they they were missing, these pirates longing to meet up with beautiful women, having sadly understood that anyone they had left behind was long gone and buried. 

Some of the things that they missed was food not found in Neverland. Others missed the excitement of visiting cities and port towns, and a few even wondered if the kingdoms they were from still existed in one form or another. 

The names of the kingdoms didn't mean much to Emma. She listened to what was being said, and couldn't imagine missing a place as much as these pirates did. But then she hadn't come from a real home, hadn't had any true connections with the people of the world that she had been born into. Her world had been nothing but a place of darkness, a place one could cower and cry themselves to sleep in. Neverland was her home, and until she had tasted Smee's cooking, Emma hadn't found Peter Pan's world to be lacking. 

"What is this world called?" Emma asked. 

"It's the Enchanted Realm." 

Emma found herself repeating the words. "I thought Neverland was the enchanted realm...?" 

"Neverland can't compare to the magic that makes up the Realm of Enchantment." Hook told her. "Nearly anything is possible, if you have the will strong enough to make it happen." 

"Anything?" She quirked an eyebrow at him. 

"It can make men into monsters, and produce beans powerful enough to open portals to other worlds." 

"A bean..." Emma murmured. "Is that what you'll use to leave Neverland?" 

"Sadly beans are a rare item, even in our home land." Hook answered. "Most people go their whole life without ever seeing a bean, let alone get the chance to use one." He glanced at Smee, and grinned. "We owe a life's debt to Smee for his talents, don't we men?" 

"Aye!" But it wasn't a particular enthusiastic agreement. Not all the pirates were happy about being in Neverland, as though some would have preferred to have taken their chances with the demon Hook sought to kill. 

"Smee is not just good at cooking, you see." Rauol sitting next to Emma, smiled at the girl. "He has a rare talent for finding whatever one needs." 

"Whatever one needs?" Emma repeated, her voice unable to hide the doubt in it. 

"Well nearly whatever." Smee allowed, then sighed. "My talents have yet to be of any use towards finding the captain the thing he needs most." 

"Pan has just hidden it too well." Hook said, slapping a hand on Smee's back. "But we'll get it one day." 

"But how many of us will die before that happens?!" wondered a voice whose owner Emma could not see. Hook cast a sharp look around the room, and suddenly the pirates all busied themselves with eating. 

"The Roger can only sail so fast, and not even it can out pace death." muttered that same voice. 

"Talk like that is of a mutinous slant, Damien." Hook cautioned, singling out a pirate whose short cropped blonde hair was oil slick and dirty. "And not talk I will stand for." 

"You know as good as the rest of us how we would have died if we had remained in the Enchanted Realm." Mason chided Damien. "Rumplestiltskin would have killed us all, have no doubts of that." 

"Maybe...or maybe he would have been content with just the...." 

"Wait." Emma interrupted, glancing at Hook. For once he wasn't intent on Emma, staring instead at the pirate Damien. "Rumplestiltskin?!" 

"Finish your thought Damien." Hook's voice was low, reeking of so much danger that even Emma couldn't help but react. The rest of the pirates were turning to look between them, many uneasy by either Hook or by what Damien was implying. 

"It's a thought that we've all had." Damien retorted, and even to Emma he sounded as though defensive. "Just not many have the courage to speak it." 

"Those who do, know where they can go!" Smee's voice snapped into the conversation. 

"You'll run out of pirates in no time, if you kill us for speaking the Gods' honest truth." 

"There will be no killing tonight." Hook answered, even as Smee made protests against that decision. "Our ships are all running on what amounts to skeleton crews for each and every one. I'll not waste another man's life without good reason, though Damien you best take care with how loose and free your tongue becomes when you've had too much to drink." 

"Now is not the time to be fighting." added Rauol, and gave a wink to Emma. "Not when we have such a pretty guest among us, and a reason to celebrate!" 

Emma might have blushed at being called pretty, but she was too curious about Rumplestiltskin, and the pirates reason for celebration. "Celebrate?" 

"It was a successful hunt." Hook answered, the look in his eyes daring anyone, even Emma to challenge him on this. 

"Yes!" Smee was quick to lend support to his captain. "Our Roger is sitting deep in Neverland's seas tonight!" 

"Roger must have meant a lot to you." Emma began, trying for a casual tone. "Was he someone that the demon killed?" The room became silent, Emma able to hear forks scraping on plates. The rum in Hook's glass sloshed, the pirate captain taking a long drink before asking. 

"And why do you think Roger was anyone of any importance?" 

"Well..." Emma felt like all eyes were on her now. "You named the ship after him....? He must have been a good friend." 

Suddenly several of the pirates were laughing, sound coming back to the room as a scarred man who was missing one too many of his teeth, grinned at her. "The ship's not named after a person, girl! The ship's called the Jolly Roger because there is nothing our captain loves more than a good hard rogering of the...." 

"That's enough Pierre!" Hook snarled, abruptly lurching up out of his seat. His glass went flying, thumping the prate Pierre in the forehead. It made Emma gasp, and turn to look at Hook who was absolutely furious. There was a snicker behind her, and a different voice muttering about how Roger wasn't someone the pirates had had much time for lately. It only left Emma more confused, the girl sure that she was missing the joke and not understanding why Hook was now so upset. 

Though upset was putting it mildly, Hook seeming furious. Emma would look to Smee in wordless confusion, the older man just shrugging his shoulders, at a loss to explain. Hook would actually move to leave the mess hall, then just as abruptly, change his mind, stalking back to the table. For one brief, all too frightening moment, Emma thought Hook was going to grab her, and maybe he would have, if not for the look that flashed to life in her eyes. 

"If you'll come with me, we'll get you settled in for the night." Hook was offering her his arm. Emma wasn't sure she should take it, actually looking to Smee as though the older pirate could advise her on what to do. But Smee was too busy looking with concern at Hook, to even notice Emma's own worry and confusion. 

It was Rauol sitting next to her, that gave a slight nod, his hand moving as though he would pat hers in reassurance. The touch never came, the man just sighing. "Go with him, little one. Away from us bad influences." 

"Bad influences?" Emma asked, and she didn't miss the snicker of several of the drunks. Why did she have the feeling they thought Hook was the worst of the bad influences on board this ship?

She didn't like that thought, nor the laughter which she suspected was partly at her own expense. But she didn't take Hook's arm, simply rising out of her seat, and gesturing for him to lead the way. She followed several steps behind him, aware of the eyes boring into her, the men far too intent on what might happen next. 

To her relief, and the pirates disappointment, nothing did happen. Hook was as always a gentleman, even though he radiated with an anger. The anger set Emma on edge, the girl beyond nervous, and trying to cast for something to talk about. Unfortunately her mind was stuck on the topic of the ship's name, an almost morbid curiosity compelling her to speak. 

"Just what did he mean...a good hard rogering?" It wasn't a term she was at all familiar with, Emma used to the far more coarse word fucking. Roger was so far removed from fuck, that Emma didn't even think in terms of sex when she heard it, and thus didn't understand why Hook seemed to choke on his own breath. 

"It's nothing." 

"It's CAN'T be nothing." Emma persisted. "It's something you liked enough to name your ship after." 

"Leave it be Emma." Hook advised, his voice holding a growl to it. "You're years too early to appreciate a good rogering." And then the ruthless, heartless, fierce some pirate seemed to cringe, and all over what he had just snarled at her. Emma was left blinking, and then began to blush, suddenly thinking she might be a step closer to knowing just what roger meant, and why the pirate had liked doing it enough to name his ship over. 

She didn't speak again, didn't try to think of anything, let alone about rogering and Hook in the same sentence, and yet she still couldn't stop blushing. She was in such an embarrassed daze, she barely remembered walking into a nearly empty room below deck, barely heard Hook explaining that this would be where she would spend the night. She wasn't aware of much of anything, right up until the sound of a lock being engaged clicked into her awareness. But by then it was too late, the pirate having left and locked her into that room for the night. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, I felt inspired tonight. Trying not to spoil ya'll with two chapters in one day/night. But I couldn't help it...was so inspired. Might even try to at least start eleven while I am still wide awake. 
> 
> This chapter was...okay I didn't mean for it to be a Smee POV. but it worked for me to have some of his thoughts at the beginning. Also, while I was proofreading ten, I realized how fun it would be to write some kind of big dinner time meal scene with her and the pirates, which leads into something I have been eager to write. A moment that would happen in eleven. Near the start of eleven. New day will start, but before that a moment! XD I feel like I got closer to Emma being able to have this kind of moment. 
> 
> I'm really liking this chapter...and was so glad I got to put that stuff about Jolly Roger and Hook liking to do that in here! I was fretting at one point I might not get that bit in. XD It cracks me up that bit of convo. XD 
> 
> Not much else to say! Laters! 
> 
> You know the drill, 2/16.2018 updates to this chapter...
> 
> \----Michelle


	11. Eleven

To say that Emma was furious to find herself locked in a room, would be an understatement. She was beyond it, actually livid to the point of seeing red, so very angry with Hook and with herself for falling for his trick. She felt stupid and worst of all, she felt betrayed, as though Emma had expected better of him. And really she had, Emma being lulled by Hook's play at being a gentleman pirate. She hadn't yet trusted him, but she had been well on the way to wanting to, Hook so unlike any man she had ever known. 

"Such a fool." Emma grumbled, knowing she had let the captain's too pretty face blind her to the reality that she actually faced. She wasn't his guest, but his prisoner, and being locked in a room only confirmed it. She hadn't been free, hadn't been since the moment Hook's arms had first circled around her. Even when he hadn't been touching her, Hook had been binding her in other ways, distracting her with his behavior, then keeping her busy in Smee's kitchen. Emma had never had a single moment of unsupervised time, except for when she was locked behind a door of solid wood, just like she was now. 

Her rage knew no bounds, Emma angry but also feeling helpless. Even hopeless. For how in the world was she to escape, when she couldn't even get past the door that stood barring her way? A door she wasn't strong enough to break, her hands scratched, even bloody from the many times she had pounded her fists against it. That fierce pounding had started out in protest, Emma growing increasingly violent the longer no one answered her screams. Until she was wild with fury, near mindless, hitting the door again and again and not noticing the hurt she was doing to herself until after the fact. 

Now, roughly an hour later, she paid the price. Her hands were stinging something terrible, especially that of their ruined knuckles. She didn't cry at the pain, though she did occasionally hiss. Pacing about the room, which had only one small porthole, and crammed full of boxes that had nothing that she could use. Just an endless amount of gold and jewels, more treasure than Emma could ever have imagined spending. Maybe enough treasure to make mean old mister dragon jealous. Certainly enough to make nearly every pirate aboard the Jolly Roger rich beyond their wildest dreams. 

And here she was, Emma the latest spoil to be added to this room. But unlike the treasure, Emma wasn't content to just lay here. Already she was plotting, and though her hands hurt something terrible, Emma kept on going through each chest. Hoping she would find something of use, maybe even something she could use to pick the lock, or unscrew the door of it's hinges. 

She'd still be searching hours later, when the sound of the lock being turned intruded into her awareness. Arm deep in a treasure chest, Emma couldn't pull her arms out fast enough to make a successful lunge towards the opening door. She heard Smee shout, heard the sound of things falling to the floor, fabric rustling, and something heavier thumping. Smee got her by her hair, and was none too gentle as he forcefully flung her back deeper into the room. 

Hitting the floor, Emma immediately sprang up, her fingers curling, making her hands into weapons as she went for Smee's face. Again her hair was caught, the oldest of the pirates surprisingly scrappy given his age. Flung down a second time, Smee was shouting even as Emma charged. 

"Damn you, don't just stand there!" Smee was saying, but he wasn't looking at the girl who was struggling against the hands restraining her arms. "Help me!" 

"But it is ever so amusing to watch you try to avoid getting scratched." Came the silken tones of an accent that belong to the gypsy, Rauol. 

"Damn your amusements and help me!" Smee snarled. 

Emma thought she heard Rauol sigh, and then he was easily restraining her. She could feel the strength in his hands, felt him press her into his front, his arms going around her. Emma squirmed, trying to break free, but it was almost like being held by Hook. The same yet not, Rauol strong but not smelling anywhere as pleasant as Hook did. 

"By the Gods, Hook was right about you!" Unlike Smee, Rauol was admiring. "You have a pirate's fight within you!" 

Emma growled. "Let go!" 

Rauol didn't dignify that with a reply. And Smee was red faced and glaring, though the effect was ruined by his wheezing. "You little hellion, what is wrong with you?!" 

"Where is your captain?!" Emma asked instead of answering. "Where is Hook?!" 

"The captain doesn't have time to deal with a little girl's tantrums." Smee retorted. "Hell, none of us do." 

"This is Neverland." Emma managed to point out, through clenched teeth. "Time is the one thing that we all have in common." 

"Some of us are just more patient than others." Rauol's accent pleasantly caressed her ears with a soft throaty laugh. "Patient and admiring of a woman's spirit." 

"Admire all you like, just don't be forgetting our captain's threat." Smee had turned his glare to the man holding onto Emma. 

"Threat?" 

"It is not I who is the danger to our young guest." But Rauol's tone was biting with an unfriendly undertone to it. 

Smee began to scoff at that, but Emma spoke over him, her own voice holding the bitter chill of winter to it. "Guest? I am you pirates' prisoner, and nothing more." 

"You might be both." 

Now Emma was the one to scoff. "Impossible. I can only be one or the other." 

"Hook treats you too well to be a mere prisoner." Rauol pointed out. 

"Oh yes, so well!" Emma snapped with a sarcastic slant to her voice. 

"Child, you might never appreciate just how well." Smee growled. "When I think of the lengths he goes through to..." 

"To what?!" 

Smee shook his head, refusing to finish the thought out loud. "You should be more aware of your position, and the boons he grants you." She didn't understand, and let it show in her eyes. That lack of understanding made Smee sigh, the man shaking his head again. "You're the only female on a ship full of men who are starved for companionship. Do you think it at all wise to let you have freedom to run about, especially at night, tempting us?" 

"I am not tempting anyone." But she had gone pale, Emma understanding what Smee was getting at. 

"It's as much for our protection as it is yours, that you have to be locked up." Rauol added. The fight was slowly ebbing out of Emma, the implications turning over in her mind. Leaving her chilled, frightened, the pirates no longer seeming so like grown up versions of her lost boys, but the dangerous men that they really were in truth. 

Frightened anew of the pirates, Emma almost hadn't registered properly what Rauol had said. "I understand about my protection, but yours?! What do you think I will do? Murder you all in your sleep?" 

Smee snorted rudely enough, as though he considered that a very real possibility. But it wasn't he who answered, but Rauol, the gypsy's voice without inflection as he spoke. "Our captain has made it very clear what will happen to those that try to take any liberties with you." 

"What...what will happen?" A morbidly curious Emma asked. 

"Your Peter Pan hasn't gotten all the stories wrong about Captain Hook." Was all Rauol would say. It left Emma suppressing a shiver, trying not to tremble in Rauol's arms.

Smee shot Rauol a look. "The captain is a kind man, but also a ruthless one. He's given you his protection, and that is something he won't take lightly. Or his men. Only a fool would push him to back up his threat." 

Mind reeling, trying not to imagine just what Hook would do should someone, anyone, a board this ship get out of hand with her, Emma was barely aware of Rauol letting her go. Smee had backed up a step, wary of what she might do, but Emma made no move to lunge for him. A few seconds of inaction, and Smee exchanged a look with Rauol before nodding and walking to the door. 

When Smee's back was turned, Rauol turned Emma towards him, using the pretext of her raw and bloody hands to touch her once more. "Bella...what have you done to yourself?" 

Emma tried to jerk back her hands, and Rauol's gentle grip turned harsh, the man not allowing her to retreat. 

"The captain was right." Smee's expression was a grudging approval, the man aglow at the thought of Hook's smarts in anticipating the things that Emma would do. 

"In this case I wish he wasn't." Rauol said, frowning at Emma. 

"What was he right about?" Emma asked, then frowned at Smee's answer. 

"The captain was sure you'd hurt yourself trying to get the door open. And you have!" Smee dropped what turned out to be blankets and a pillow at her feet. "Lucky for you, I have just what you need to patch you right up." 

"And even luckier, it doesn't look like you'll need stitching done." Rauol said, and Smee scowled. "More than one man on this ship has scars from Smee's shoddy handling of a stitching needle." 

It was then that Emma realized there was gauze and some kind of vial being removed form Smee's pockets. A vial that had some strong smelling liquid, some antiseptic that stung as it was poured over her cut up hands. She didn't cry out, but Emma did hiss, her face twisting in a grimace of pain. Rauol still held onto her wrists, his eyes full of approval that she hadn't screamed or started crying. 

"The captain would be proud of you." The gypsy told Emma. She told herself it didn't matter, that Hook's opinion and high regard wasn't something that she actually wanted. It didn't change the fact that a part of her purred inside, pleased at the thought of Hook being proud of how she had handled Smee's treatment. 

Except for the antiseptic liquid's sting, Smee's nursing was painless. The gauze was worked around her hands and fingers, the worst of her injuries that of her knuckles. Two flasks of fresh water would be given to her, one for drinking, one for her to keep on hand to cleanse her wounds every few hours. More gauze was left behind, Smee offering one last advice to her before moving to leave the room. 

"Try to get some rest." His gruff voice wasn't above granting her a kindness. "Your next lesson is first thing in the morning." 

Emma's heart brightened, her hopeful gaze settling on Smee. "You mean....?" 

"Captain's orders." Smee said, then turned away from her. "You'll be helping me with every meal from now on." 

Her heart swelled with joy, Emma practically aglow with how happy those orders had made her. But before she could say anything, think of anything, she heard Rauol's soft whisper. 

"Beautiful." 

Eyes growing huge, she turned to him, in time for Rauol to look directly at her. Forest green met the near black eyes of the gypsy pirate, the man giving her a far too grown up smile, as he caressed fingers over the backs of her hands. It wasn't as bad as he could have done, but it still felt wildly inappropriate, Emma just managing to stifle her gasp. She immediately jerked her hands free of a grip that was already letting her go, Rauol continuing to wear that smile as Emma turned a paranoid gaze to Smee's back. 

The oldest pirate of all of Hook's crew, had a set of key rings he took out of his pant's pocket. "Just how many people have keys to this room?" Emma asked, trying not to betray how shaken she was by that private exchange with the gypsy. 

"Just me and the captain." Smee answered, gesturing impatiently for Rauol to step out of the room. Rauol sauntered his way, Emma hiding her relief. Suddenly it didn't seem like such a bad thing that she was being locked up between meals. 

"Don't worry. No one, and that includes the captain, will disturb your sleep." 

But Smee didn't know how wrong he was! Because Rauol had succeeded in worming his way into her thoughts, his behavior unsettling her in all the ways opposite of how Hook had impressed her. Any good opinion that Emma had been forming of the pirates, was now being reconsidered, Rauol's caress, and Smee's words, bringing back familiar fears. And though it had been centuries since she had had to truly worry in that vein of thought, the fears had never truly left her. 

Feeling extremely vulnerable, Emma began rubbing the backs of her hands on her legs. Trying to scrub the memory of Rauol's caress from them, the gauze loosening and dislodging from her repeated motions. She barely paid it any mind, too busy thinking about how she looked, how she had been admired by the pirates. How the word pretty had been used several times already. Suddenly she wished she hadn't been so brave as to meet with Hook's pirates, because killing and stealing wasn't the only thing Peter Pan had said that they did. 

Peter's claims came to her then, Emma trying not to dwell on them, and what could happen. But her mind didn't want to obey her, dozen upon dozen of thoughts and memories coming, leaving Emma overwhelmed to the point she sank down to the floor. But she didn't curl up into a ball and start crying. She refused to! And though it took a mighty effort on her part, Emma began to try to calm herself, trying to take comfort in the one pirate she wanted to trust. 

Hook. 

She might not understand the captain, but she understood at least some of his motivations. He wanted something from Peter, and until he got it, Hook would be determined to keep Emma safe. But it wasn't as simple as she was trying to make it, a part of her understanding that Hook didn't have to do anything but hold on to her. He could have let his pirates do whatever they wanted, and it wouldn't have mattered so long as she survived long enough for the exchange. Hook was protecting her, but she couldn't trust in that, in him. Adults never did anything without a reason, Hook would want something from her, and it hurt her to think that impressive man would prove to be just as evil and perverted as all the other grown ups in her life. 

Used to being disappointed, Emma still fought the pain of her heart. She didn't understand that pain, that tight constricting feeling that centered in her chest. She didn't know that it was her heart being ever close to breaking, actually vehemently protesting the notions that she was entertaining about Hook and her perceived ideas of his true nature. 

The pain of her heart, and of her thoughts, would keep Emma up long into the night, the girl tossing and turning, wrapped in a blanket that had come from the captain's own bed. She had recognized enough of his scent on the faded wool, that pleasant clean smell, with a hint of masculine spice that Emma had found far too appealing. Wrapped up in the blankets, Hook's scent was all around her, further pervading her thoughts with such a potent reminder of him. By the time morning came, and Smee unlocked the door to her prison, Emma was weak with exhaustion. 

One look at the dark smudges under her eyes, and how pale her face truly was, had let Smee know that she hadn't really slept. It was an uncharacteristic sympathy that shown in his eyes, as he cautiously approached her, Emma allowing him to examine her hands. He tsked to see the gauze gone, and gently set about to wrapping fresh fabric over her self inflicted injuries. 

"You have to be more careful." Smee was saying, and Emma could only nod her head in agreement. "The captain wouldn't like it if you were to fall sick with fever from an infection that could have been avoided!" 

Wanting to recoil, Emma wondered again what the price of Hook's concern would be. She then realized Smee had been still talking, and that she had been in such a fog of her own worries and fears, that she had missed most of what the pirate had been saying. 

"Young miss, are you all right?" Smee frowned when she nodded. He tried to put his hand to her forehead, and Emma almost fell over trying to scramble away backwards. 

"What are you doing?!" Alarm was in her exclamation. 

"Just wanted to make sure you didn't have the start of a fever." Smee grumbled. 

"I'm just tired..." 

"Maybe you should spend the morning in bed." Smee suggested. "It would do you a world of good to get more sleep." 

"No...no...I want to have another lesson." insisted Emma. She avoided his eyes. "Peter could come for me at any moment....I want to learn as much as I can before that happens." 

Smee was still frowning. "If you're sure..." 

"I am." Emma said with a firm nod of her head. Smee still looked doubtful, but allowed her to follow him out of the room. She felt sick, but hadn't lied to him. She was wanting another lesson, wanting to learn but also wanting to have access to the things in the kitchen. And not just the food, but the knives, Emma hoping to sneak one into her clothing. She hadn't had much of a plan, but escape was heavy on her mind. 

Unfortunately it wasn't easy to get a hold of a knife under Smee's far too watchful eye. The old pirate was constantly keeping track of them, of how many there was, and how close Emma was to them. He noticed every time something was out of place, not just the knives, but the forks, Emma beginning to think she would never get her hands on one. The opportunity at last would come when the very tattooed Mason appeared, with a personal request from the captain. 

Emma quickly slid the dirty knife under her tunic, using her pant's tight waistband to hold it in place. She kept right on edge after Smee was done basically arguing with Mason over the captain's request, Emma not relaxing even after it became apparent that Smee was too upset to notice what she had taken. 

"The captain be wanting to take a private breakfast with you." Smee told her, sounding very exasperated and disapproving. "I told Mason it was out of the question, what with you feeling sick, but he wouldn't have any of it." 

"Why does your captain want to eat with me?" Emma asked, watching as Smee's expression soured further. 

"Don't know." The older man shrugged. "Can't guess even half of what's on the captain's mind lately." 

"Can't guess, or won't?" Emma asked, noting Smee's surprise. 

"You're right I won't." Smee nodded. "Captain Hook is a complicated man...and far smarter men then I have failed to understand him." 

"But you...you worry about him." It wasn't much of a guess, given how she had seen Smee's worry first hand, and on repeated occasions. 

"Of course I do!" Smee's voice was suddenly passionate. "After what he's been through...!" 

"What HAS he been through?" Emma asked, curious though she told herself not to be. 

Smee's expression closed up. "It's not my story to tell. Not really." 

"Then I guess I should ask Hook himself?" 

"Don't you be bothering Hook about this!" Smee snapped at her, his voice passionate with anger now. "He doesn't need you dredging up the past, or causing him any more pain." 

"Then he should let me go." Emma stated firmly. "Because pain is all we'll cause each other." 

Smee blinked slowly, and for a second Emma thought he was shaken by what she had said. "Oh aye, I don't doubt that." But he didn't clarify just what he meant with his agreement. Nor did he offer to help her escape, which Emma hadn't really expected, though one wild thought had entertained the idea that Smee would be so eager to spare Hook the pain of Emma, that he might just be willing to look the other way during an attempt to escape. 

Smee was just about the only one Emma had thought might let her escape. The others simply admired her too much, while Smee seemed to barely tolerate her! Barely became nothing, Smee unable to stomach the idea of Emma having another private meal with his captain. The older man would slam about the kitchen, Emma trying her best not to flinch every time he banged a pot, or threw a spoon into an already full sink. But his anger worked to her advantage, Smee never noticing that a knife had gone missing. 

Emma didn't yet know what she was going to do with that knife, but she took comfort in feeling the cool blade of it against her skin. It might not buy her a way off the ship, but her hopes was that it would protect her from Rauol and any other pirate that decided to ignore Captain Hook's threat. It might even protect her from the captain himself, Emma prepared to use it should Hook decide to reveal his true reasons for securing her safety aboard his ship. But as prepared as she was, Emma couldn't ignore the way she didn't want to have to hurt Hook. It was a want she hoped wouldn't cause her to hesitate, Emma fearing she would have only one chance to escape. She didn't know how wrong she was, that escape had never been an option the second that she had first looked into Captain Hook's eyes. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am on a roll...fic really being alive in my head right now. Bad thing is, some of the scenes that are so vivid in my head are far in the future of the fic....distracting me from it's present scenes. *hangs head* 
> 
> Also, I didn't get to my moment. I'll spoil. A scene that's been very vivid in my mind, is that Emma would find out it was bedding from Hook's own bed, and like rub the fabric of the blanket over her lips. But I guess I can do it a little later with a shirt of his. XD 
> 
> Overall I really like how this chapter came out! Flowed pretty easy, though I started stumbling a little bit when Smee came to get her for the cooking lessons. I want to start on the next chapter after I post this one, but debating on whose POV it will be. Maybe I will do a Hook Emma double POV! XD 
> 
> \-----------Michelle


	12. Twelve

It took time to cook enough porridge to satisfy the Jolly Roger's pirates. Time that had Emma scurrying about the kitchen area, fetching the things that Smee had asked for, and tending to little chores that didn't always have to do with the making of the meal. Emma got to make a start on last night's dirty dishes, help sweep the floor, even be treated to the experience of tasting things as Smee tried to get the flavoring just perfect. 

Smee seemed adept at figuring out just the right amount of spices to add, Emma's face scrunching only once in response to something that seemed too red hot a taste. Mostly the foods she tried, were bland until Smee added enough to give it the perfect flavor, and already Emma was eyeing his little rack of spices and seasonings with some interest. Maybe too much interest, Smee keeping as watchful an eye on them as he had on the knives, the man right to worry she might try to pocket one of his vital jars of flavoring magic. 

It was a very real concern, Emma wanting that rack and it's little treasure trove for herself. She wasn't in any way stupid, and could understand that despite all she was learning, if she didn't have the proper tools to utilize, then the other preparations wouldn't matter. The meals would still fall flat of the perfection that was Smee's cooking. 

She was especially interested in the cinnamon he was dosing the captain's porridge with, the ingredient sweet and pleasing to the tongue. Smee grudgingly allowed her to use some in her own bowl, both Emma and the captain forgoing the bacon that was taking up space in most of the porridge set aside for the rest of the Jolly Roger pirates. 

Those pirates were shuffling into the ship's dining area, a large room Emma had learned was actually called the mess hall. As large a group as there was, it still wasn't enough people to fill the whole hall for Hook hadn't lied when he said the five ships under his command were all being manned by skeleton sized crews. The pirates still made a lot of noise, as though making up for the loss of their partners, the men surprisingly noisy given it was still so early in the morning and that many were most likely hung over from last night's drunken revelry. It didn't stop them from stamping their feet and pounding their fists on the tables, the men impatient for a chance at Smee's porridge. 

They made enough noise to frighten Emma, the girl almost glad to have been invited for a somewhat private meal elsewhere. She didn't feel up to facing this group, not now that old fears had been roused, Emma all too eager to slip out the back way of the kitchen. The pirate Mason led the way, actually carrying the tray with the bowls of porridge on them for her. She didn't think too much of that act of kindness, assuming it was the fact her legs weren't always yet steady during the ship's worst bobbing than to think it had anything to do with the man thinking to win the attention of the pretty girl with an attempt at chivalry. 

He wasn't the only one thinking in that vein of thought, many of the pirates unable to help themselves. Some did it unknowingly, acting surprisingly courteous for pirates, while others would try to worm their way into her heart with blatant overtures of their interest. Of course in the coming hours, the more blatant and bold admirers would soon get a reminder of why they shouldn't court Emma OR their captain's displeasure. 

But such displays were still a ways off, Captain Hook not yet aware of what had transpired between his guest and one of his own pirates. If he had known, Hook would never have allowed Rauol to linger by his side, the dark gypsy's brown eyes briefly flashing black when he saw Mason approaching with Emma. Fortunes favored Rauol that Hook's own gaze had been busy on Emma, the captain not able to notice how his friend eyes had briefly run dark with flared passion. But Emma had, her steps slowing down until she was shuffling almost uncertainly to a stop. 

"Greetings Emma." Hook smiled pleasantly enough. In his hand he held a collapsible telescope, the man gesturing with it for Emma to make her way forward. "Good morning to you." 

"Morning." She mumbled, refusing to deem it good or bad. Her eye flicked in Rauol's direction, the man's teeth flashing with his smile. "I thought you wanted to have breakfast with me, captain. A PRIVATE breakfast." 

"Rauol was just about to leave us." Hook's words nearly tore a sigh of relief from Emma. And still she didn't make a move to follow Mason up the three steps to the elevated part of the ship's deck. 

"Ah, I see how it is." Rauol hadn't lost his smile. "Always a way with the pretty ones." He tsked, nudging Hook with his elbow. "Big or small, they always want the captain to themselves." Hook had lost most of his smile, and Emma nearly turned red with mortification as Rauol winked at her. 

"The only thing I want from your captain..." Emma managed to sputter out. "Is for him to set me back on the mainland, so I can return to my brothers!" 

"Those savages?" Rauol actually scoffed. "A jewel like you is wasted on them." 

"That's enough Rauol." The captain's hook was at his throat, the blue eyed pirate not having appreciated anything the gypsy had been insinuating. "You and Mason may both go." 

Rauol hadn't the wisdom to pale, as though he doubted that Hook would carry through on his threat. Emma wondered if he was that stupid, or just that horny, Emma backing to the side of the steps to avoid both Mason and Rauol's passage past her. The gypsy tried nothing else, though Emma's skin crawled enough that she had to force her hands to remain at her sides, rather than reach for the knife hidden under her tunic's top. When she turned to glance at Hook, she saw he was watching her. It left her doubly glad she had kept still, that she hadn't betrayed the knife under her clothes. 

"Come here, Emma." It was a command not a request, Emma slowly making the way up the three steps. Hook was holding out the telescope to her but she didn't reach for it. Instead Emma cast a quizzical look at it, and him. 

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" She asked, and was all the more confused by his answer. 

"Neverland." A smile that wasn't in any way happy was given to her. "Just humor me, please." 

She hesitated another half minute, before finally reaching for the telescope. Hook guided her to stand to the right of him, the man leaning on the railing with his elbows, his back to the mainland. Emma gave him a doubting look, before she peered through the end of the telescope. She wasn't sure what she was suppose to truly see, and Emma also didn't believe for one minute that Hook had spied Peter returning. 

Except for the sound of the ship groaning against the waves rocking it, the deck was quiet. Nearly all the pirates were now below deck, save for the one up in the crow's nest, keeping a watchful eye on the skies. One other pirate stood ready, standing near a large bell he would ring at the first sign of trouble. That bell would ring throughout the ship, bringing the pirates running to take their positions up on deck. But for this morning, the bell would remain quiet, the only true disturbances inside the hearts of both Captain Hook and Emma Swan. 

"What about Neverland am I suppose to see?" Emma asked, more than ready to set down the telescope. 

"I want you to describe it to me." Hook said, which gave Emma pause, the girl turning to glance at the pirate. He still had his back to the mainland, and his eyes were closed, hiding their brilliant blue color. 

Emma frowned, completely confused. "You KNOW what it looks like." 

"I want to hear it from you." Was Hook's answer. She stared at him longer, and then his eyes opened. Blue met green, Emma unsettled for a reason different than that of the way she had felt when Rauol looked at her. "Emma please." He said, and she had a feeling Hook wasn't a man used to asking for what he wanted. "Just indulge me in this." 

She couldn't help but shiver at the thought of indulging Hook in any way, but Emma eventually shrugged. She raised the telescope again, and peered through it's glass. "I see the main land." She said softly. "It's as beautiful to me now as it was that first morning." 

"HOW is it beautiful?" Hook wanted to know. 

It was a question Emma had to really think about before answering. "The colors for one thing." She finally said. "More vibrant than anything that passes for natural in my world. As if the rainbows my brothers chase have blessed this land with their kiss." She let Hook adjust the magnification of the telescope's lens, but she still couldn't see inside the forest. "The forest with it's mighty oaks, the healthy trees that tower like giants, and protect us from discovery. The gold sandy beaches that slowly give way to the flowers that pour out of the forest." 

The words began to pour out of her, Emma speaking warmly, almost lovingly of Neverland. She didn't just talk about the scenery she saw, Emma beginning to describe some of the animals that wandered the borders between forest and beach. She even talked of the sky, of the fluffy marshmallow like clouds, and the few stars that lingered even though it was well into the morning, their light and color like twinkling jewels. Even the sky itself, with it's rainbow, was picturesque, holding not just the typical blues, but some pinks and pale purples, mixing together to provide a pretty pastel world to float through. 

She talked but Emma didn't understand, and she told him as much. But instead of explaining why, Hook only offered her more cryptic words, telling her with a nod that she still saw Neverland with a child's wonder. 

"What is that supposed to mean?" Emma demanded, her hand clenching harder around the telescope. "How do you see it?" 

"It doesn't matter what I see.' Hook told her. "It is enough that you see it that way." 

"I don't understand." Emma complained. 

The smile he gave her was sad. "It's my hope that you never do." 

"That's not right." Emma felt close to whining. "You can't ask something of me and then not explain why." 

Hook took the telescope from her. "I am not accustomed to explaining myself." 

"The captain's right?" She asked, and Hook nodded. "But...that shouldn't apply to me!" She flushed at Hook's look, the man quirking an eyebrow at her. She wasn't in any way trying to insinuate she deserved preferred treatment, or that she was special. She should be nothing, mean nothing to him, except as a bargaining chip to use against Peter Pan. 

"Whether you are my guest or my prisoner, there are some things that even you will not be privy too." Hook told her, and the telescope disappeared into his coat's pocket. "It's...better this way." 

"Better?" Emma's eyes narrowed. "Why do I get the feeling better is not the word you would use." 

"Whatever the case, better IS the word I used." Hook finished firmly, then gestured for her to sit on the steps. She glared before doing so, and found Hook sitting down next to her, the tray between them. He didn't immediately reach for a bowl, studying her instead. "You did not sleep well?" 

"Being locked up with no real bed will do that." Emma retorted, and reached for a bowl. It wasn't as hot, now warmed down enough that she could hold it in her hands. Better yet, she could sip at the porridge, making a small sound of pleasure at the taste. Hook copied her actions as best he could, making it look easy to balance the bowl with one hand. 

"I apologize for the conditions, but I hadn't exactly expected to have a young lady spend the night." Hook told her, then sighed. "A pirates ship is no place for a girl...especially at night...." 

"Then let me go!" snapped Emma. 

"After Pan gives me what I need." 

"To kill your demon?" Emma then scoffed. "Why would Peter have such a thing? If your demon is that dangerous...." 

"He is." 

"Then the last thing Peter would want is to have something that would cause this demon to target his family!" 

"A point you might want to make to your Pan." Hook retorted. "Maybe then he would see reason...." 

"Perhaps it's you who need to see reason, captain." She hissed. "Hunting children, using them against Peter....That boy cares for and protects us. He wouldn't keep endangering us just to deny you your long sought revenge! He'd have already handed over this...weapon is it? Handed it over to you long ago simply to stop the problems you and your pirates cause!" 

"One would think that, wouldn't they?" Hook said to Emma's surprise. "But your Pan has a use for everyone that crosses his paths. He won't rid Neverland of the pirates, not so long as we somehow prove useful to him...." 

"Useful? Listen to yourself! You're talking as if Peter is some master manipulator!" She watched him blink, slowly and repeatedly. Hook then guarding his expression from her. "He's just a boy." She said it, but uncertainly. 

Hook slowly nodded. "Just a boy." He didn't sound like he quite agreed with her on that. "And magic strong enough to slay a demon shouldn't remain in a child's hand." 

"Nor should it end up in the hands of blood thirsty pirates!" Emma snapped. 

"Not even when it's the pirates that will do the most good with it?" Hook asked her. She didn't answer, busying herself with drinking down the porridge. "Emma...think of the people that will be saved, the people I can help. If I'm allowed to use that magic to kill that demon...." 

"Not if you're doing it for all the wrong reasons..." 

"That's a child's way of thinking." Hook grumbled. "It shouldn't matter what reason I hunt Rumplestiltskin, as long as I put an end to him, every one in my land will benefit." 

"You most of all?" She challenged, watching as his face became more guarded. 

"Hardly." Hook let out a deep sighing breath. "While revenge is a fine for motivation, it won't make me happy once achieved." 

"Then why bother with it at all?" Emma asked. Hook didn't immediately answer, looking like he was brooding on how to respond to her question. "Captain?" 

"Some things cannot be let go." He finally said. "And sometimes it merely an issue of meeting the demands of satisfaction." 

Emma blinked, not sure she understood the difference between being happy and being satisfied. "Which...which is it for you?" She asked out loud. 

"I think both." 

"You THINK?" she echoed in disbelief. 

"I can't let go...." Hook told her, but he was looking down into the bowl in his hand. As if staring at a vision amidst all that liquidly porridge meal. "And I won't be satisfied until that demon is dead. No...." He scowled. "Rumplestiltskin's death will only satisfy one need.....the others shall remain. The loss of what he stole from, it's one I don't think I can ever recover from. He's not just denied me my heart, he's stolen my future..." 

Sitting on the steps, next to the scowling Captain Hook, Emma shivered. She had barely touched the porridge in her bowl, distracted by the pirate, and what he was saying. She still made no move to eat, instead letting the bowl warm her hands, Emma feeling a chill that wasn't quick to go away. Because Emma felt as though she understood him in the moment. She might not have lost her heart, but she knew too well the feeling of thinking her future stolen, her rightful future. Before Peter Pan had brought her to Neverland, all Emma had thought she had had to look to was an inevitable fate, an inescapable abuse. She had known that her best efforts wouldn't be enough, that eventually, someone would hurt her far worse than she had already suffered. The only question had been would it have been the boys her own age, her so called brothers, or one of the foster fathers who changed as often as Emma was shifted from house to house. 

"The future can be changed." She whispered, Hook turning to peer at her. "It's not set in stone..." 

"And what would you know of it, lost one?" Hook asked, his own voice a soft murmur. "You who live only in the present, determined to never grow up and seize a future...." 

"I know what I faced...." Emma told him in a moment of raw honesty. "And what Peter helped saved me from." 

A choked sound from Hook, his expression far too troubled by what she had said. She felt her cheeks warm, but it was a humiliated heat, Emma feeling she had revealed more of herself than she had ever wanted to, to the pirate. 

Hook stopped her when she tried to lurch upright, both bowls of porridge hitting the wooden planks of the deck hard. The remains of the porridge and cinnamon splashed by their feet, Hook's hand gripping Emma by the wrist. 

"Emma..." He stared searchingly at her, Emma torn between freezing in place, and attempting to jerk free of his hand's grip. "What....?" 

"We all have a past." Emma managed to say. "Things better left unmentioned." 

"You don't wish me to pry further." Hook realized, and actually let go of her wrist. Emma retreated a few steps away from him, her own expression wary. 

"We each have our own private burdens to bear..." She began. "Neither one of us needs to be weighted down with the addition of another's." 

"You're very wise for your age." Hook noted with a nod of his head. 

"I don't know about that. I know merely when to be on guard, and when to trust my instincts." 

"And what do your instincts say about me?" Hook asked, still sitting on the stairs. Emma bit at her lip instead of answering, and though she wanted to, she didn't look away. Emma knew what she thought, knew to be on guard. But her instincts didn't warn her half as much as they should where Captain Hook was concerned. And that was perhaps the most troubling thing of all, Emma wondering if she was wrong about Hook, or simply wanted to believe that because she found him so handsome to look at. Her skin hadn't crawled at his touch, she wasn't reacting to him the way she had Rauol. Captain Hook left her unsettled, troubled, but it was Rauol and others like him, who left Emma disturbed. Frightened even, Emma glad her instincts still worked enough to ascertain most threats aboard this ship. Most but not all, Emma shivering again as she looked at Captain Hook and wondered if he was just a wolf playing at being a sheep. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel...frustrated. Not too badly. I wrote like 15 kb of this Thursday going into Friday, but then had to go sleep. I finished the rest tonight...but I'm not feeling particularly happy with what I wrote tonight. Also couldn't...well a change of plans in one of the things I wanted to happen....it involved the knife she stole. It'll still happen just not right now....but I got other plans that was able to play out like I wanted in here, especially the telescope thing. :) 
> 
> I had a really crappy week sleep wise. Which is why I didn't try to start writing this until Thursday night. I was barely sleeping, and when I'm on an insomnia binge, it's not very conducive to me being productive writing wise. and then I think my bad headache came from all that bad sleep. X_X 
> 
> Ay yi yi...so I'm glad to have this chapter over with...even if I don't like a lot of the second half of it. XD Now I think I'll relax after proofreading, though really I feel kinda groggy. But I was determined to finally finish this particular chapter. X_X 
> 
> Updated 2/16/2018
> 
> \----Michelle


	13. Thirteen

Not for the first time since meeting her, did Hook find himself feeling unsettled by a young Emma Swan. By the mystery of her, by her presence, and by a past he could only just guess at. A past she only grudgingly allowed him hints of, each word she let slip making Hook envision the worst. And with each imagining, the anger surged, Hook wanting to throttle someone, anyone for hurting this girl. He was left wanting to vanquish her demons, to chase the haunted look from her eyes, as though Hook wanted to be the hero the girl clearly thought Pan to be. And as laughable a thought as it was, that was in effect exactly what Peter Pan was to Emma and her brothers, the lost boys. It took a special kind of desperation to want to go with Pan, and a desire to escape and abandon all you had ever known. A need to be saved, few if any had ever looked back. Owen certainly hadn’t.

Of course the details had been haze, enough time passing for the boy, that Owen had forgotten the details of his home of origin, and whatever situation he might have faced there. Emma however hadn't, the look that came to her eyes whenever she became worried, or felt threatened, proving as much. It was a wonder that she was able to look upon Neverland and see exactly what Pan wanted. It was a downright miracle that Emma hadn't lost her child's sense of wonder. Because abuse did things to children, made them view the world differently, made them grow up faster. And Emma was already showing a wisdom the likes of which only harsh lessons would have granted to one so young. Lessons Hook himself knew, and had still ignored, until Emma bit out a harsh reminder for him. 

"We each have our own private burdens to bear." She had said. "Neither one of us needs to be weighted down with the addition of one another.” 

She was right, but it didn't make it any easier to accept! Smee would accuse him of being foolhardy, would say Hook was ignoring, maybe even forgetting the lessons lthey had all earned at Peter Pan's hands. The lessons spilt in the life's blood of Owen and other children like him. Even with knowing that, remembering it, Hook wasn't sure how to switch off his heart, how to keep from becoming invested in Emma and her well being. In allowing her to remain on his ship, Hook inevitably tied them together, the man curious, downright drawn to her and the pained air she had about her. 

Which just left him thinking he was a glutton for misery. Because what else was he inviting but that, Hook knowing he wasn't going to be able to save her. Not from her past, and not from Pan, and it was a small miracle that he and his pirates hadn't done any further damage to her. Not yet at least, though Hook was aware of the way things could go wrong, how easily it would be for one slip up to send Emma along the path to growing up. 

It was inevitable, it WOULD happen though Hook would fight to keep it from happening while Emma was aboard his ship. His task would be a lot easier if only Hook wasn't so curious about her, about everything she said and did not, the girl reluctant to truly share anything about herself. But what she didn't say might speak even louder than some of what she did, and Hook couldn't seem to get his thoughts out of this pattern! 

Worried that his tormented inner thoughts was showing on his face, Hook still couldn't stop staring at Emma. He saw her worry at her lip, teeth biting at that flesh, the girl fidgeting in place as she considered his last question to her. He supposed it was answer enough, the girl's instincts most likely screaming warnings about him to her. Warnings she'd be right to listen to, because no good could come to Emma of her continued association with Hook. 

Wondering if Emma would be strong where he was weak, Hook's smile was sad, almost bitter as he got up off the steps. She was watching him, wary as always, but not to the point she had backed up. His intent wasn't on her for once, Hook getting down on one knee, busying himself with the remains of the broken bowls. One had shattered almost completely upon impact with the deck of the Jolly Roger, but the other hadn't fared so badly. A bit of a glue, and it would be as good as new, Hook using the mostly intact center to hold the pieces of it and it's broken twin inside it. 

"Smee will be annoyed with me." Hook murmured, not betraying his surprise when Emma's shadow fell directly over him. "For letting the bowls break." 

"It was as much my fault as yours." Emma told him, slowly kneeling down before him. Some of her hair swept forward over her shoulders, the girl helping Hook to gather the broken remains of the bowls. There was no helping the porridge, not until they had a rag with which to clean it up. And in the heat of the morning sun, it wouldn't take long for the porridge to dry into harden lumps on the deck. Yet another reason for Smee to be annoyed, what with the older man liking to keep the ship in sparkling clean condition. 

"They broke because I grabbed you." Hook pointed out, still intent on the mess at their feet. 

"I didn't have to drop mine in response..." Emma protested. "I could have held on. I do have two hands after all...." She trailed off with an appalled sound, Hook smiling more as he looked up at her. "I...I shouldn't have said..." 

"There's no harm in pointing out the obvious. I am at a disadvantage where hands are concerned." 

"You don't behave as though it's that great a disadvantage." Emma still looked aghast. "I...I mean...I haven't exactly seen you struggling to make up for the lack of your left hand..." 

"I've had roughly three hundred years to get used to only having one hand." Hook told her. "I couldn't help but adjust, and learn how to compensate for what others would perceive a weakness." 

" A weakness..." Emma shivered as she said it. "Yes...Yes I can imagine how that would be bad to have on a ship full of pirates." 

"Indeed." Hook gave a quick nod, letting Emma take the bowl and the pieces inside it in her hands. "I won't lie and say there wasn't a few of my crew who tried to take the reigns of leadership from me because of my...situation." He wasn't smiling then, because it hadn't been just his hand's loss that had let his crew think Hook weak. His grief over Milah had been near crippling, and only the fact that he had reacted like the wounded animal he had been in truth, had kept Hook violent enough to dispatch those who had challenged his authority and right to leadership in those first days in Neverland. 

"But you...overcame such problems." Emma guessed correctly. There was a look in her eyes, an almost cautious admiration then. 

"I'm good with my sword." Hook told her. "And even better with my hook." Her eyes glanced at the hook in question, but she didn't shiver this time. 

"I've heard the stories." 

"Have you?" Hook asked. "From who? Pan?" Emma nodded. "You can't always believe the things that boy tells you." scoffed Hook, unable to help himself. 

Her brow furrowed. "But he's right about this, isn't he? You have killed with that hook. You've gutted and mutilated countless many." 

"I wouldn't say THAT many." Hook grumbled. "No more than a dozen, a dozen and a half tops." It left her blinking, as though she was confused and surprised by what he had said. 

"I can't tell if you're joking or being serious." 

Hook smiled at her, allowing a teasing light to enter his eyes. "Maybe one day you'll be able to." 

"I don't think I'll be around long enough to ever know you that well." Emma said, and the way she phrased it upset him, though he hid his reaction behind a forced smile. 

"I guess that depends on how long Pan takes to come trade for you." But the longer she stayed here, the more she was put at risk, Hook trying his best not to brood and failing as he rose to stand. 

"You know I don't believe Pan has what you're looking for...." She stood as well. "Or that he'll trade you it for me." 

"It's enough that I believe." Hook told her. 

"But even you don't believe enough to think he'll make it easy for you to get." Emma noted, and Hook nodded. 

"He hasn't. I don't expect much to change even now.....but where my belief fails, my hopes live on." 

"Hopes?" she echoed it as a question. "Because you think I'm special? To Peter I mean." Emma hurriedly clarified. "As if I am anymore special to him than any of the other members of our family?" 

Hook wasn't sure how to answer that, without upsetting the very balance of the carefully crafted lies and illusions Peter Pan maintained. Lies that Emma's own life depended on, the girl needing to keep believing if she was going to avoid growing up any time soon. 

"It's what I'm counting on." Hook finally muttered in a very gruff manner. He took the bowl from her, and began to walk away. But it wasn't that easy to be rid of her, Emma not only following close behind him, but persisting in the line of thought that had been opened to her. 

"Because I'm a girl?" He didn't have to look at her to guess she was frowning. Not when he could hear it in her voice, the girl troubled and trying to figure out an oddity she hadn't given much thought to before. "Because I'm the only girl among the Lost Boys...." Hook said nothing, and still she turned defensive. "It's not that strange. Is it...?" 

"I'm sure Pan has his reasons...." Hook said, ill at ease with how Emma continued to fret and wonder along this troubling vein of thought. 

"But why would he only have boys?" Emma asked. 

"Well..." Hook had to think fast. "Look at the life the lost ones lead. It's not one many girls would think they'd enjoy." 

"And that means what exactly?" 

"It's been my experience that where boys prefer rough play and being outside, girls are more apt to tea parties and dress up, playing with dolls." Hook told her. "I don't think many of them would choose the lifestyle of a lost boy, not if it meant giving up the comfort of their home life." 

"Comforts...."Emma mused, her tone such that Hook felt gutted to hear it. "I guess it makes some sort of sense. Most girls wouldn't have reason or a desire to want to run away, or to go off on an adventure..." 

Hook felt certain the odds were such that they favored that Emma had been running from something when she had chosen to go off with Peter Pan. "That seems to be the way of things, no matter the world." Hook said out loud. "Boys long for adventure, while girls typically care for the creature comforts of home and family." 

"Must be nice...." She said, sounding wistful. Hook risked a glance at her, and saw the look in her eyes matched her tone. Hook was far too curious, wanting to know more, longing for it. But ever so afraid to ask. For her sake and his, Hook turning away. 

"I wouldn't know." He said out loud to her wistful tone. She made a questioning sound, and Hook knew he shouldn't talk of any more to her. But the can of worms had been opened, the damage already being done. Maybe nothing could stop Emma from wondering at the reasons behind her being in Neverland, existing as the only lost girl. But perhaps he could distract her for a time, and if talk about his own youth could accomplish that, then Hook would gladly do it. 

"What do you mean by that?" Emma was asking out loud. 

"I wasn't always a pirate, you know..." Hook had to smile at her gasp, and the way Emma hurriedly tried to protest that that wasn't what she had been assuming. "Once...Once I was nothing more than a boy." But that had been spoken with a bitter edge to his voice, harshening the words rather than make them wistful. 

There was silence for a few blessed moments, Emma not speaking as she allowed Hook to lead her past the still noisy mess hall, to the rear entrance of the galley. The kitchen was empty, the broken bowls set down on a counter top as Hook looked around to see what could be scrounged up to make up for the ruin of their breakfast. 

There was only a few spoonfuls of porridge left, far too little to bother with scraping the bottom of the pot. Hook settled on grain sweetened by milk and a spoonful of sugar, a simple enough fare managed in quick time. 

"It's hard to imagine you as a boy." Emma finally said, after Hook had handed her her own bowl of the cereal grain. 

"It's not a time I look back on fondly." Hook admitted to her, leaning against a countertop. 

"No?" She asked, and he could see the questions in her eyes. 

"My home life wasn't ideal." Hook admitted. "Oh, on the outside, I suppose we painted a pretty picture. We were rich, and titled, with a grand house and many servants. But what went on behind closed doors..." 

Her eyes had grown wide with shock, Emma forgetting to eat as she stared at him. Hook sighed, fighting the memories. "My parents weren't exactly loving...with me or each other." But that was putting it mildly, Hook remembering the beatings, his father not caring who suffered the lash, be it his son or his wife. Often times, his mother had had to heap on ample bits of make up to cover her own bruises and that of her son's. 

"Many of my memories of that time...." Hook shook his head. "The people meant to love and protect us the most, can do the most damage." The fighting and yelling echoed in his head, culminating in the death of Hook's mother. "After my mother...passed, there really was no reason for me to stick around." 

"You were loyal to her." Emma noted. 

"We were loyal to each other." Hook corrected. "Though there was little we could do to help each other. And once she was gone, rather then continue to endure my father's abuse, I chose to ran away." A brief flash of teeth, a bitter smile. "I didn't have a plan, didn't care where I ended up. In those days anything seemed better than HIM." 

She visibly shivered, Emma seeming to relate a little too much to what Hook was saying. It wasn't a response he had been trying for, her upset making Hook want to reach out and comfort her rather than continue talking. He went so far as to set down his bowl, then remembered himself, fingers curling as he drew his hand close to his chest. She didn't appear to realize how close he had come to touching her, Emma shaking, stirring the milky wet grain with a spoon. 

Choosing to spare her the memories of those frightening first days on the streets, Hook instead began to speak of the day that everything had changed. The day that he had snuck aboard the first ship he was able to, looking more for a dry place to sleep, rather than to set sail for an adventure far from his home. 

"It was a lucky day for me....the day I chose to hide aboard the ship of the infamous black beard pirates." Hook told Emma. "Of course, back then if I had known, I most likely would have stayed far far away." He let out a chuckle that wasn't too forced. "Even a boy sheltered from the world of the streets, had enough sense to stay away from pirates. Frankly, I was lucky they didn't decide to ransom me on the spot." 

But his fine clothing had been ragged and torn, dirtied enough to be streaked with multiple stains. Young Killlian Jones hadn't looked at all like the aristocracy he had come from, and by the time the pirates might have suspected otherwise, he was already a part of them. 

"It was risky business, stowing away on any ship." Hook continued out loud. "If you couldn't pay, often times you were pressed into a kind of slavery, forced to work for your passage. If the captain was honest, he'd let you go at the first port reached. But if he was not....well..." Hook shrugged. 

"You wouldn't think pirates would behave better than so called civilized men." Hook said to her with a smirk. "But pirates have their own kind of honor." 

"Honor among thieves..." She muttered, before eating a spoonful of the grain. 

"Oh aye. It's a very real thing. Pirates may force stowaways into the life, but we're amply rewarded for our troubles." 

"I've seen your hold of treasure." Emma said, which made Hook grin. 

"We're rich beyond our wildest dreams, even after we divide the loot amongst us." He kept on smiling, liking the thought of the gold in the Roger's hold. "I'd be richer too, should any of my crew decide they've had it with the lifestyle." 

"What does that mean?" Emma asked, in between spoonfuls of her grain. 

"There's only two ways to leave the life behind." Hook told her. "Have enough gold to buy your way out of it, or..." He ran a finger across his throat, her eyes widening. 

"You'd kill them?!" She squeaked out in a horrified whisper. "But aren't they your friends?!" 

"A captain doesn't have too many real friends." Hook answered. "A pirate even less so. As a captain I am only as safe as my sword is sharp, might making right on the seas." It was a lesson he had learned with the black beard pirates, their own captain being turned against, a new leader being anointed in the blood of the dead. Hook hadn't been the one to kill Captain Black Beard, or the man who had followed, or even the third. He hadn't been old enough, or skilled enough until time came for the captain's title to pass for a fourth time, and then Hook had made his move. He had been captain ever since, the Jolly Roger christened in the blood of so many dead, Hook deeming it a fresh start as he set off to lead his crew into a new era of piracy. 

"You..." Emma was swallowing nervously, having set down the bowl. "Your crew doesn't have all that many men left...." 

"Neverland hasn't been too kind to us." Hook admitted. "More than one of my men has thought things would be better if they were to replace me as captain." 

"So you killed them...?!" 

"I've had to watch my back." Hook retorted. "It's kill or be killed when it comes to being captain of the pirates. We take what we want Emma, even if another man stands in our way." 

Emma had paled, perhaps more than she should have in response to his words. He'd catch sight of the disturb look in her green eyes, and then Emma would push away from the counter she had been leaning against. "And your crew is okay with that?" She asked as she began pacing the length of the kitchen. "Okay enough to follow the man who slews their captain?!" 

"We respect the strong and the cunning." Hook answered. "If a captain grows so weak as to not be able to hold on to his own ship and crew, is it any wonder that the men will fall into line for the one to replace him?" 

"It sounds like a terrible way to live." Emma had hugged her arms around herself. "How can you stand it?" 

"It was better than the alternatives I faced as a boy." Was Hook's simple answer. It got Emma turning to look at him, her brow furrowing as she processed this. Hook didn't rush her to speak, simply eating his grain as she stood there thinking. Struggling with something, perhaps a concept Emma wasn't sure that she should voice. 

"I...I always..." 

"Yes?" He asked, when she trailed off uncertainly. Emma bit at her lip again, before meeting his eyes with her own. 

"I always thought if I---if anyone had their real parents in their life, then everything would be okay.....that it might not be perfect, but it would be better...." 

"Better than what, Emma?" Hook asked, his voice soft and trying to coax her into opening up more to him. But his question merely got her to shrug, the girl turning away, her hand reaching for the little rack of spices that Smee kept in the kitchen. She didn't try to speak anymore, instead taking out each individual jar, running her fingertips over the ink scribbled onto the labels. 

His curiosity had been teased to the point of frustration, even with knowing better. Smee would think him worse than a fool, might insist Hook was a glutton for punishment, talking of such things to the girl. Things that could only bond them closer together, things that could only make a fragile connection between them strengthen. One that would make it hurt worse when Pan did kill the girl. 

But even knowing this, knowing how much it would hurt, and how much Smee would complain and berate Hook's choice, the pirate couldn't help himself. He felt drawn to the girl, pulled into her story, and knew it was already too late, Hook caring too much about Emma Swan to even play at indifference. 

Knowing this made the decision easier, Hook approaching the girl. She glanced at him, and he felt the fine tremble go through her, Hook standing that close to her as he took a spice bottle from her hand. She didn't protest, didn't turn to watch as he began putting the bottles and jars back into the rack. Emma kept her eyes on Hook, who smiled at her once the spice rack was back in order. 

"Would you like to see one of Smee's secrets?" 

Emma was wary but interested, especially when Hook made it clear the secret had to do with Smee's success at cooking. Her appreciation and interest in Smee's talents with the preparation of foods, had Emma shrugging off most of her caution, the girl taking Hook's arm. She still seemed to shake a little, as Hook led her out of the kitchen, but the girl was brave enough to not let it stop her. Emma's heart was a bold, courageous one, and it just made Hook want to admire her more. How much stronger would that admiration become should he learn all there was where Emma Swan was concerned? He didn't know, and in the moment Hook tried not to worry.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh..I think it's obvious I stumbled on how to end this chapter, what sort of line or even paragraph to write there. I've been working on this chapter on and off since Wednesday night. Though the weekend was spent rereading this fic. I over think things, and started freaking out that I messed up, especially where Hook and Emma are concerned. I still kinda think I went off balance...rereading shows...at first their interactions were more a fun feel...then it got all angsty with their thoughts and feelings, Hook worrying one way, Emma the other. I'm trying to get back to that fun feel though it didn't happen here...I'm trying to get to a balance of angsty and fun...don't know if I can though. *Starts banging head against the wall* 
> 
> Thanks go to Zerousy, who got to listen to me pour my heart out and fret about everything I worried about this week in regards to this fic. 
> 
> Also...I debated on if I should let the canon Hook/Killian back story be the back story here in my fic. But I ultimately decided, that since this is an AU, I could stick to the back story I was coming up for him. I had a line in chapter seven about stowaways, that said something about including Hook. So I already had that planted that he stowed away and was pressed into the pirates ways of life because of it. 
> 
> Right now I'm just kinda banging my head against the wall....so frustrated and totally not feeling in the writing mood. Kinda hating on my own fic as a result. =/ 
> 
> 2/16/2018 Uopdated a fair bit….
> 
> \---Michellle


	14. Fourteen

Smee's secret turned out to be a room that was brightly lit by the sun filtering in through an additional two porthole windows that had clearly been a last minute addition to the far wall. Together with the two put there by the original designer of the Jolly Roger, there was four windows in all, each open enough to let the sea breeze air out the room. It was a needed touch, for the room was full of smells, Emma's nose tingling as she got whiff of the potent aromas that came from Smee's attempt at an indoor garden. 

Ordinarily, it wouldn't have been that impressive a sight, the garden consisting of only a few potted things. Those plants, which were predominantly of the herbal variety, were all near to the wall with the windows, crowding close together to soak up as much of the sun as they could. Emma couldn't begin to identify the plants, so many of them in their natural forms, where as the spice rack in the ship's kitchen had held the seasonings in their crushed and powdered state. 

It wasn't exactly what Emma had been expecting, but if she was honest, she hadn't thought enough to even guess at Smee's secret. Still it was worthy of the reveal, Emma glad that Hook had showed her to this room. A room that was sparse aside from the plants, and the things needed to tend to them. A few buckets of fresh dirt, a small hand shovel, even clippers to tend to the snipping of leaves and shoots. There was even a table, with jars both empty and half full, along with the tools Smee must use to crush and preserve the herbs into a usable form. 

Emma looked at all this, and as fascinating as it was, she also realized quite a bit of hard work went into the magic behind Smee's spice rack. The kind of work Peter would deem a waste of time, Emma realized with a sinking feeling in her heart. Work that would be one step closer to the drudgery of being an adult, work Peter would in effect say was completely unnecessary. Emma sighed as she let go of Hook's arm, already knowing Peter would reject the idea of a garden and spices. He already hated the work that the lost boys HAD to do, the hunting and sentry positions that was vital to living in the forest. Vital in one way, damning in another, because the more responsibilities the lost boys took on, the more likely they were to grow up.

 

There was already a world of difference between the younger lost boys and those over the age of twelve. Though Emma loved all her brothers the same, no matter how differently they all behaved, even she could recognized that the teenagers among them were far too serious and stiff mannered. And though Emma had been stuck at fourteen for the last one hundred and fifty years, she had had the fortune to avoid the fate of taking on adult like qualities because Peter had made sure to keep her rooted in fun and play, rather then set any real responsibilities on her shoulders. 

Emma didn't want to grow up, and she certainly didn't want to leave Neverland. But sometimes she missed things, most especially that of food that tasted good. Already spoiled by Smee's cooking, Emma was finding she didn't want to have to wait the long periods between visits of mock war with the Indian Tribes, to get a taste of the Neverland natives' foods. She wanted the luxury of having such good tasting food any time that she wanted, to the point Emma thought it might be worth it to grow up just a little to make it actually happen. 

Pondering ways to coax a yes from Peter, Emma didn't realize the kind of expression she was making. Her brow furrowed, her lips forming a frown, Emma stood by the table, touching one of Smee's tools. It looked like and was heavy like a hammer, but the head was different. A metal square, with sharp points protruding out one side. She guessed at it's use, thinking it was the thing that crushed and pounded the herbs into paste. 

There was some kind of plant that had dried out on the table. Emma didn't touch that, not wanting to risk damaging the fragile looking plant. She wondered though, if Smee would allow her to be present for the preparation of the seasonings. Then wondered if she would ever get a chance to put to practice what she was learning under her apprenticeship to the pirate, and if Peter could ever be persuaded to see that there was some good to be had from learning from the adults. 

"You look as though the weight of the world has been put on your shoulders." Hook's voice startled Emma out of her thoughts. She blinked several times, turning to find Hook had stepped close to her. She hadn't even noticed when he had moved, and her heart beat just a little faster to find him right there, standing next to her. It was different from when she had walked with him, side by side, with her arm tucked around his. Different because she had allowed it, where as now, it felt as though he had intruded on her personal space without Emma's permission. 

"I'm just thinking." Her tone came out defensive, Emma trying to back up a step, only to bump into the table. It shook and rattled, and suddenly Hook was right in front of her, drawing her away from the table and closer to him. 

"It can't be a very happy thought." 

Emma's first instinct was to look away, but she stubbornly kept her chin lifted, locking eyes with the pirate. "It's not happy but neither is it exactly bad." 

"Will you share it with me?" Hook asked, holding her stare. Emma frowned, considering it when Hook added a please. 

"I was just thinking it might be nice to have a garden of my own...." 

"And this thought, it bothers you?" Hook asked. 

"Not exactly." Emma shifted, aware Hook was still holding onto her arm. "It's the work that would go into it...Work Peter would never allow..." 

"Ah..." Understanding shown in his eyes, Hook letting go of Emma's arm. 

"He means well.....really he does...." 

"You don't need to defend him to me." Hook said, his tone of voice such that Emma was sure he was hiding his true feelings from her. 

"Peter just doesn't like us to needlessly expose ourselves to the chance of growing up." continued Emma, feeling like she had to explain. "It's why, why he goes to great lengths to ensure every day is an adventure, that it's all fun and games....." 

"Life can't be fun and games all the time, Emma." Hook pointed out to her. 

"But in Neverland it can!" Emma protested. "You just have to be careful...careful of what you do, who you meet with." 

"Like us pirates?" 

"Not just the pirates." Emma said. "Peter doesn't like us to meet much with any of the adults in Neverland. Not even the Indian Tribe, who we meet with the most, for regular plays at war." 

Hook had gotten the strangest of looks on his face at that. "War is a very grown up activity for ones intent on remaining young...." 

"It's not a real war." Emma insisted. "It's just playing at having battles." The strange look remained, Emma shrugging. "It's fun and the lost boys love playing at fighting...." She tried to brighten up. "And afterwards, we get to raid the camp for spoils." 

"How pirate like of you." 

She frowned. "It's not the same." Hook just arched an eyebrow at her, his look one of challenge. "It's not!" Emma insisted, stamping her foot on the floor. "The tribe willingly participates, setting out things that we can use. We're not hurting anyone when we take our spoils." 

"You'd be surprised..." Hook muttered, and Emma stepped forward to stop him from turning away. 

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, her hand gripping his arm, the feel of muscles apparent, even under the leather of his coat's sleeve. 

"I shouldn't say...." 

"Why do you do that?" Emma demanded. "Why do you say cryptic things that you never explain fully?!" 

Hook stared at her, then glanced down at Emma's hand gripping his arm. She felt flushed, relaxing her hold, and taking a step back though she kept on staring at him. "I guess I just can't help myself." 

"That's just more cryptic nonsense!" Emma exclaimed. "If there's something you want to say to me, then just say it!" 

She watched Hook blink, his mouth opening then closing several times. He looked on the verge of saying something, but then something like guilt flashed in his blue eyes. Whatever internal struggle that might be going on within the pirate, ended with Hook shrugging his shoulders. A response that was intolerable, Emma glaring at him. 

"You're not being fair." 

"Maybe not." Hook agreed. "But what if you knew something that ultimately did nothing but hurt the person you told? Would you still tell them?" 

"I...I suppose not." She reluctantly admitted, then gave him a searching look. "Is that what this is about? You have something to say that will only hurt me?" The fact that he didn't bother with a response, didn't so much as nod his head, made Emma's frustration mount. As did her worries, Emma becoming increasingly nervous as she pondered what it could be. "Is...is there really no other outcome?" She asked, hesitation lacing her every word. "No way to avoid hurting that person?" 

"None that I've been able to find." Hook sighed. "So the question remains...Do you let them go on in blissful ignorance? Or do you..." 

"If it was me, I'd want to know!" Emma interrupted. 

"Even if it's a truth you're unprepared to hear?" Hook asked. "A truth you won't believe but will cause you to second guess much of what you've always known? Or worse yet, you will believe, and will spend out your days frightened of what's coming?" 

She started biting at her lip, Emma considering the questions Hook presented to her. The pirate made a tsking sound, and then was touching her, his thumb caressing over her poor abused bottom lip. She stared at him, freezing in place with just the tingle of where his thumb had touched her lip to ground her in an awareness. Of him, of her, of the fact that they were below deck in a room far removed from the kitchen and the mess hall. She didn't feel half as nervous as she would have, had it been someone like Rauol touching her, and yet she wasn't exactly at ease with Hook either. 

"That's a bad habit." He was saying, looking at her mouth. "Tearing up your lip like that." She found herself blinking, repeatedly and rapidly, as Hook showed his thumb to her. A faint spot of blood was on it, Emma realizing she had chewed at her lip enough to make it bleed. She blushed then, taking a jerky step back as her own fingers flew to her mouth. 

Hook seemed to realize what he had done, a second after Emma had jerked away. He didn't blush, if anything his skin seemed to pale, the pirate dropping his hand to his side. Emma might have questioned the startled look in his eyes IF she had noticed it, instead too busy dwelling on her own reactions and response to Hook. 

"I think I know..." She began in a shaky tone of voice, after a few minutes had passed. Hook arched an eyebrow at her in question. "What you're trying to tell me." 

His eyebrows went level with each other, Hook's voice flat as he spoke. "Oh?" 

"When you...you told me about your past. And about life as a pirate." Emma continued. "You made sure to mention how..well, how risky it is to be the leader of a band of pirates. How the captain must always stay on guard." 

"Go on." 

"You were warning me, weren't you?" Emma asked. "Letting me know I am only as safe as you are. From your crew I mean. That if something happens..." 

"It won't." Hook insisted. 

"How can you be sure?!" Emma demanded, but it was more worry than anger that colored her words. "All it takes is one to get lucky..." 

"Because I'm determined to not die until I get what I want." 

"What you want? Your revenge on the demon who took your heart?" Emma asked, and Hook nodded. She almost started chewing at her lip again, but remembered in time to stop. "But what if...what if there is someone on your crew who wants something even more than you want your revenge?" 

"Trust me Emma, there's no desire stronger than mine for revenge." But Hook's words didn't appease her, Emma still fretting and afraid, remembering the look in Rauol's eyes when he had called her beautiful. 

"I...I wish I could believe that." Emma said. "But it's not just your life on the line if you're wrong!" 

Hook frowned, his eyes troubled. "Has someone of my crew been making you uncomfortable, Emma?" He asked. 

Emma's first instinct was to spill all, to tell him how worried she was. Not just because of Rauol, but because of what Smee had unfortunately pointed out. The idea had been put in her head, Emma made aware of how she was the only female aboard a ship of lusty pirates who had gone too long without a woman. The fears were on the tip of her tongue, Emma wondering if Hook would really do anything to vanquish the source of her fright. Or IF he could do anything, and whether it would be better for her to actually let him. Would he challenge Rauol and others like him to a duel? Would he outright kill the gypsy, or would the gypsy kill him? It was an uncertainty that had Emma hesitating, the girl fearing what would happen if Hook were to lose in such a confrontation. 

"It's nothing...." Emma attempted to lie. But Hook wasn't having it, advancing on her, Emma backing up more and more, until the table pressed into her from behind. Hook loomed over her, going so far as to pin her in place with his body. 

"I think you are a girl with good instincts." Hook was saying. "And also one who is smart enough to listen to them. If someone aboard my ship is making you feel funny..." 

"Funny?" Emma echoed with a sharp inflection to her voice. Because Hook made her feel funny, so unlike her normal self. But it was a welcomed feeling when compared to how Rauol had made her feel. 

"Who is it Emma? Who has troubled you when they shouldn't have?" 

"It doesn't matter." Emma said, but she wasn't able to sound as stubborn and defiant as she wanted to come off as. 

"It matters to ME!" He actually growled at her, Emma's eyes growing wide for just one second. 

"I can handle it." She retorted, fighting to not bring her hand in a betraying gesture to the knife under her tunic. "Just like I would any other problem." 

"You're not alone in this, Emma." Hook told her. "There's no need for you to handle anything, when I'm here..." 

"And what happens when you're not here?! What then?!" Emma demanded angrily. "My situation will be a million times worse!" 

They were glaring at each other, Emma now red with anger instead of embarrassment. Hook looked just as angry as she actually felt, the man downright murderous as he considered just who might have done something untoward to the girl. 

"Just drop it." Emma finally, reluctantly begged. "Please." 

"I can't." Hook retorted. "I won't!" But he stopped looming over her, stepping away from her. "And if you won't tell me what's going on, I'll have to make inquiries of my own." He paced away from her, counting off names. "You've only been alone or nearly alone with a few of my men. There's Smee of course...." Hook turned, watching her now for her reactions. Emma tried to stone wall him, doing her best to not flinch or get any angrier. "And Mason..." 

His eyes bore into her, Emma feeling as though she might break out into a sweat. "And then there's Rauol..." 

"What are you going to do?" Emma asked. "Kill every last one of them?" 

"Nothing so extreme." Hook answered with a grim look. "There are less permanent ways to get the information that I require..." 

Emma's head swam with gruesome images, her foot stamping hard on the floor. "I don't want you to torture anyone!" 

"And I want you to feel safe on my ship!" Hook snapped back. 

"It's too late for that!" Emma tried to go for the door, Hook stepping in her path, catching her in his arms. "You're only going to make things worse!" 

"The only thing that will make things worse, is if by saying nothing, it stops me from acting!" Hook told her, easily holding onto her struggling form. "Someone is pushing boundaries, testing to see how far he can go, how much he can defy my strict orders. That cannot go unpunished any more than I can allow you to be harmed by this person!" 

Emma wasn't fighting nearly as much as she could have, too busy listening to Hook. She was in shock to think he might care this much, that this might not just be about Hook enforcing his orders and his threat. Emma might even want to believe that SHE herself mattered to him, as if she was more than the bargaining chip he sought to use against Peter Pan. It was a belief that would have been nice, if she could believe in it, in Hook, and Emma found herself parting her lips to speak at nearly the precise moment something heavy thunked against the wooden floorboards. 

Emma went immediately still, body as well as expression frozen. Hook was still holding her, shifting her with him so that he could look down to see what had fallen to the floor. Emma knew without looking what it had to be, the knife she had tucked under her tunic, having slipped free during the struggle. 

Hook didn't say anything for a long time, the knife on the floor a silent accusation of someone's guilt. Emma didn't know what to say, what to do, barely breathing as she waited for Hook to start in again. When he did, his words were much like she had anticipated, only spoken with a quieter rage. 

"Who was it?" He demanded. "Who was it that made you feel so threatened that you felt you needed to arm yourself against him?" 

"I..." She was still in his arms, held trapped there by the power and muscle of them. "I...if you promise you won't get yourself killed?" 

"Oh I promise." But Emma knew better than to relax. "But I can't promise the same for the bastard that upset you...." Emma shivered at that, Hook's voice in her ear, as he again demanded a name. 

"Rauol." She whispered, weakening enough to slump against Hook's chest. "It was Rauol." 

"The gypsy." Hook growled, sounding more furious than ever she had heard him, even counting the moments that had just passed between them. It made Emma shiver, the girl nerving herself to ask what Hook was going to do now that he had the pirate's name. His answer hardly calmed her, as Hook fiercely spoke of making an example of the gypsy. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..*twiddles thumbs* I was actually intending to work on a different fic, and then I woke up with the start of 14 being clear in my head. Unfortunately, it kinda veered off in the middle from the conversations I had intended. I had wanted to make clearer a little about the timeline. I don't know if anyone has noticed it...it goes something like, Hook has been in Neverland for 300 years. 200 years, 50 years into Emma's life in Neverland, the shamaness told him Pan had what Hook needed most. 250 years into Hook's time in Neverland, was the Tiger Lily incident, so the pirates have been cut off from buying and trading and what not with the Indians for only 50 years. 
> 
> This chapter was flowing pretty good for me, even with me veering off into other territory conversation wise. I got to do my thing about the knife and Rauol finally....although I started stumbling, cause I felt like Hook and Emma were arguing too much about it. My reasoning is that Emma's reasoning is she's freaked out scared what will happen to her if something happens and Hook ends up dead. So she was trying to protect both herself and Hook by keeping quiet, only I think I didn't do that good a job with it. -_- 
> 
> For the most part, today I am not hating on my own fic. Yay! Though I kinda still am hating on certain chapters. X_X People tell me all the time I am too hard on myself when it comes to my writing, and I believe that to be true. It's very hard to not be mad at myself or disappointed in myself when I can't get the scenes in my head to translate right into the written form. 
> 
> Did I ever tell ya that the lost boys fate was inspired by the movie Children of The Corn? I don't remember much of that movie (I think it's a Stephan King book originally) but the one thing I do remember, is whenever the kids turned 18, they had to go into a cornfield, and I guess there was a monster that lived in the cornfield, that killed the now grown children. So it played a big part in thinking up the idea of Peter Pan doing something to lost boys when they grow up. 
> 
> There's little hints there about certain things. I wonder if people will be like, "Oh yeah I noticed it" when the bigger reveals come that these were hinting at..or maybe I didn't do such a good job at hinting at the stuff. *sweat drops* 
> 
> Overall, this chapter was a fast one to write! Whoo hoo! So I don't feel too stressed. :) 
> 
> 2/17/2018 updated a fair bit
> 
> \---Michelle


	15. Fifteen

Young Emma Swan was a presence that made an impact on all who had met her. From the lost boys, to the pirates, to everyone in between. With her vivid green eyes, and the waves of gold that passed as her hair, most often it was her looks alone that stunned men and women into being impressed by her. Already far too pretty for a child, Emma was just a few years short of being a grown beauty that would literally stop men in their tracks. Whole wars might be fought over a beauty like hers, and in another existence, maybe they had. Rauol both thought it a pity and fortunate that she hadn't been born in the Enchanted Realm, a land whose history was written on the heels of the pursuit of beautiful princesses, true love and darker things at work causing whole kingdoms to fall, and be remade because of the desire for, and the envy of a pretty face. 

Like the beauties of legend, Emma Swan was already an extraordinary amount of pretty for her age. Raoul could easily imagine her as a princess, but fortunately for him, Emma wasn't one, destined to not be locked away in a tower by some over protective parents. Less fortunate was what he had to actually contend with, Raoul conscious of Hook's threat, and the man's intent to carry it out. Hook was very much like a dragon guarding it's treasure, ready to snap jaws and bite off the head of any who dared trespass against what he had deemed his. 

Of course Hook hadn't exactly claimed the girl for himself, had he? He had put her under his protection, but then had done little if anything to actually trigger the change in her. He probably never would, at least not on purpose, Hook trying to be noble around the girl. Trying to save her from the fate she would be delivered into should Emma grow up. That fate at Peter Pan's hands was enough to make even the gypsy hesitate over what he was contemplating doing, Rauol far from heartless though he was lonely. Starved for female companionship, and all that entailed. 

It wasn't as though Rauol wanted Emma to grow up so he could watch her die. Nor was he thinking to risk her life to satisfy the most primal of his needs. But he was wanting her, was actively flirting even as he made plans for an ambition that was greater than just having Emma Swan in his bed. 

Pleasant as that thought was, Rauol's ultimate goal was split into two things. Getting the pirates back to the Enchanted Realm, and taking the leadership of the Jolly Roger from Hook himself. Such was Hook's skill with the sword, that to become captain in his stead actually seemed the more difficult feat, though Rauol didn't have any better idea on how to actually leave Neverland than Captain Hook had. What he did have ideas on, was on how to improve life for the pirates, and that including correcting the wrongs Tiger Lily's people had dealt them. With his intent the total enslavement of thosr tribes, Rauol knew the pirates would so appreciate the things they would have access to, and that included the women there, that they would not only embrace him as their new leader, but gladly allow him sole use of Emma Swan. 

Greedy for her and the future he saw within reach, a future where the Jolly Roger pirates were welcomed back to their home realm as men rich beyond the wildest dreams of kings, Raoul had no idea of the trouble that was about to head his way. Instead he was enjoying his own private celebration, though Rauol was careful to drink only enough to chase away the worst of his hangover. He wasn't the only one to be doing this, but neither was the mess hall crowded with pirates. Not when there was so much work to be done, the days that followed a successful hunt even busier than normal as many of the crew set to work carving up, and preserving the meats, and making use of the animal's hide and other parts. 

With so much to be done, from manning the ship, to brewing their beer, to running repairs, the majority of the crew was split below deck and top, with only five present to run Smee ragged refilling their mugs. The oldest of the pirates, and a person who would have been deemed the least likely to have ever been made a swashbuckler, Smee existed not only on their captain's tolerance, but because of his cooking skills. Smee was a man who practically worked magic in the kitchen, and his loyalty to Hook spoke wonders of the man's character, as did his almost obsessive need to keep the ship clean and in tip top shape. The traits though admired, wouldn't save Smee from Rauol's sword, should the older man refuse to abandon his loyalty to the soon to be dead captain. 

For now though, Smee was safe. Was actually blissfully unaware of Rauol's intentions. Unlike the pirate Damien, who knew of Raoul's ambitions, and actually supported his bid to become captain. The greasy haired blonde was ready for a change, and felt many of the crew were too, so many of the pirates sick of Neverland and longing for home. To Damien, Rauol was a far better bet of that than of Hook, everyone well aware that so long as the current captain's revenge continued to elude him, the pirates would NEVER get home. 

Discontent, mutiny was a thought never far from many of the pirates' minds though few if any had what it took to stand firm against Captain Hook's prowess and skill in a fight, let alone the ability to hold onto the leadership on their own. Damien like so many others, knew that even if by some miracle he was to kill Hook, he'd stand little chance against the pirates that would come after him in challenge for the captain's cap. But Rauol was a different story, strong, capable, and almost as well liked as Hook had once been. 

With all these odds in Rauol's favors, with home so close that the pirate Damien could taste it, the greasy haired blonde couldn't understand why the gypsy was now recklessly endangering himself. Yes, Damien grudgingly acknowledged that Emma was a pretty girl for her age, and yes they had all gone too long without female companionship. But if Rauol would wait just a little longer, he'd have his pick of not only the entire tribe of Indian females, but would be able to have his pick of women once back in the Enchanted Realm. 

Instead here Rauol was, disregarding all that, letting his desires split their focus, and Damien thought him a fool! A God's honest fool, and he told him as much in between angry swigs of the sour drink that passed as the pirate's whiskey. 

Rauol for his part, took the insult in good stride, not bothering to stifle his laugh as his mug stilled a few inches from his face. Damien couldn't help but grumble in response, thinking Rauol acted with the confidence of a man who had already won. A trait he might have once admired, but at the moment that cocky swagger only grated on Damien's nerves. 

"You worry too much, my friend." Reclined on his chair, it tilted back, Raoul's feet propped up on the table despite Smee's earlier protests. The gypsy looked completely relaxed, a content smile curving his lips as he looked directly into Damien's glowering face. 

"And you aren't worrying enough." Damien hissed in a loud whisper. He was conscious of Smee, of how the man was scrubbing down a table on the far side of the room. "What are you thinking?!" He continued in that loud whispering tone. "Being so foolish as to...." 

"It is not foolish to go after what one wants." Rauol interrupted, his smile curving further. Giving the gypsy the appearance of a cat who had already caught and eaten a canary. 

"It is when it will upset everything!" Damien snapped. "You know what Hook will do. If he finds out..." 

"IF he finds out, I am prepared." 

"Are you really?" asked Damien, the doubt evident in his voice. He wasn't appeased by Rauol's nod, Damien's mouth frowning. "You're not just risking yourself. You're risking all of us. And for what?! A girl who will last a night, maybe two in your bed before that demon comes for her?!" 

"My interest in that girl goes beyond a mere night or two." Rauol retorted, but some of that happy, relaxed air about him had gone. Replaced by a tension in his face, his brown eyes dark with whatever worry he might have where Emma was concerned. 

"You think to what? Cut a deal with Pan?" Damien scoffed. "What could you possibly have to give him?" Raoul gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, which nearly caused Damien to explode with his anger. "You don't even have a plan for that eventuality! You let your desire for that girl not only blind you, you are letting it jeopardize everything else!" 

"Not quite." Rauol muttered, just before he took a swig of his drink. "Are you forgetting desire is power here in Neverland?" 

Damien stiffened. "I have not!" His mouth twisted in a grimace, as though he had tasted something foul. "Do you mean to pit your desires against Hook's own? Now? When you know no one craves anything more than he for his revenge?! A desire that has lent him strength for three hundred years, and allowed him to be absolutely ruthless in it's pursuit?!" 

"His desire isn't as strong as you think." Rauol countered calmly. "He lets what happens to the lost ones trouble him." Rauol snorted. "He deludes himself into thinking he'll be able to walk away when all is said and done. As if he can live with abandoning them and others like them to Pan." Derision colored the gypsy's face. "He lets conflicting desires weaken him..." 

"I could say the same about you!" exclaimed Damien just a little too loud. It had drawn Smee's attention, the older man looking over at the two pirates with a frown on his face. Damien felt real panic that Smee might have heard and understood what was being said, the pirate reaching for the dagger on his hip. 

"Think before you use that." Rauol cautioned. "Hook will notice if Smee disappears." 

Damien's hand paused, his expression a tortured one. He felt like the walls were closing in, as if everything he had been planning for was not only close to falling apart, they had already started. Resentment colored his eyes, Damien glaring at Rauol, hating him in this moment, and hating the child that had set all this trouble into motion. 

"He'll notice more what you are trying to do with that child!" 

"The girl hasn't said a word to him about me." Rauol spoke again with that now infuriating confidence. 

"Not yet, you mean." Damien retorted. "Rauol please, abandon this madness. Before you cause us all to lose everything." 

"No." A simply but firm answer, Rauol back to drinking from his mug. Damien's hand tensed, waiting to reach for the dagger, wanting to plunge it into Rauol, again and again. Maybe he would have done it too, consequences be damned. Maybe if Damien could think of any other pirate among the captain's crew that was strong enough and fit enough to not only lead, but defeat Hook in a fight, he really would have. But options as always were severely limited here in Neverland, and the pirates needed a leader. One who was strong and liked, and most importantly one who could keep control of them to stop the pirates from killing themselves in a fight for supremacy. Hook might not be as liked as he once had been, but he was still able to rule over his crew, and keep them under his control. 

For that, Damien gave the current captain a grudging respect. Because Damien had learned through his dealings with Rauol, how hard it was to control ONE pirate, never mind how difficult it must be to control a whole group of them. 

"Rauol, Rauol..." sighed Damien in a chiding manner. "What are you doing....why do you trouble me so?" 

"What is life without a little trouble?" Rauol asked with a grin. The words came back to bite him in the ass, the door to the mess hall slamming open. Rauol didn't even have time to get his feet off the table, his tilting chair crashing to the floor, as the gypsy was knocked flat on his ass by the right hand of Captain Hook. 

"You were saying?!" Damien muttered softly under his breath. He was a mix of feelings, an odd satisfaction to see the too confidant gypsy struck, yet also full of fear because the time of reckoning had surely arrived. 

"Captain!" Came the surprised sounding voice of Smee, his cleaning forgotten as he turned to watch the drama about to unfold. He wasn't the only one, the three other pirates that had been loafing about at a nearby table, also turned, one actually standing though he made no move to help Hook OR Rauol. 

The gypsy for his part, looked completely shocked. To the point he had forgotten to let go of his now empty mug, the remains of his drink soaked into his shirt as Raoul lay the on his back on the floor. 

"On your feet!" Hook ordered, and Rauol just blinked at him. Damien who had stood just as Rauol fell, noticed what Hook had not, the girl Emma inching her way into the room. He suppressed a groan at the sight of her, knowing what this signified. She had to have told Hook about Rauol's flirtations, and now a reckoning was about to unfold. 

Damien had time to think that they, that Rauol in particular, wasn't at all ready for this fight. And neither did the other pirates in the room, no one so much as laying odds in Rauol's favor, given how angry Hook was. 

"Get up!" Hook snarled. "Get up, or the next time I strike you, it will be with my hook and not my fist." 

That spurred Rauol into action, the gypsy scrambling to his feet. But he didn't look as panicked as Damien felt, but neither did he have the cocky swagger he had exhibited earlier. 

"Captain, what is this about?!" That from Smee, the older pirate not often one for violence, especially in the part of the ship he considered part of his domain. That domain wasn't only the kitchen, but the dining area attached to it, Smee mostly likely worried about any blood he would have to clean up. 

"Smee, you've been part of this crew long enough to know when a rule has been broken." 

"Oh. Oh my." Smee said, looking not at the pirate who had answered his question, but towards the girl that was quietly watching the drama unfolding in the room. 

"And what rule is that?" Rauol asked, trying to feign an innocence that didn't succeed due to the annoyance in his eyes. 

"Don't play stupid Rauol. I was clear in my orders that the girl was to be left alone." Hook's angry energy seemed to grow stronger, the man hardly able to keep from launching himself towards the gypsy. "And what would happen if anyone tried to...trigger the change in her." 

"It's very noble of you to be so concerned." But Rauol was sneering as he said it. "But she can't remain a child forever." 

"That is not something you can decide!" 

"Neither can you!" Rauol snapped, and pointed at Hook. "You know what you've put into motion in keeping her here. And all the rules and threats won't do a damn thing in stopping it!" Damien glanced at Hook's face, saw how the man's skin actually lost some of his color. He looked shaken enough by Rauol's words, that Damien almost gave himself permission to hope the odds were in the gypsy's favor. 

"Just because it can't be stopped, doesn't mean we should encourage it to happen any faster!" Was Hook's argument. 

"And why shouldn't we? Why shouldn't I?" 

"It's wrong!" snapped Hook. 

"Wrong in whose eyes?! Yours?" Rauol scoffed, placing his hands on his hips in such a way that he would be able to draw the sword resting there. "We are pirates in case you have forgotten. Lawless and without morals. We do what we want, take what we want, and there's never been a reason to hesitate before you developed a conscience!" 

"Rauol!" Snarled Smee, looking like he wanted to fling his dirty dishrag at the gypsy's head. 

"You hold us back. Stop us from doing what is in our nature. You waste time when you should be finding a way for us to go home, and if that can't be accomplished, you could at least see about making us as comfortable as possible in this land." 

"We've survived haven't we?!" Hook demanded. But the look on his face showed he had realized there was more going on here than just Rauol's interest in young Emma Swan. 

"It's not enough!" Rauol shouted. "It is NEVER enough, and if you can't see that, then..." Quick as a wolf, Rauol had drawn his sword, the metal scraping loudly in warning. Rauol didn't bother to finished his statement, didn't wait for a reply from Hook. Instead he was lunging forward, sword slashing in a diagonal arc meant to tear open Hook from shoulder to hip. 

"Captain!" Smee gasped, and the other pirates shouted, while Damien held his breath. Even Emma Swan seemed to gasp, her hands flying to her mouth to stifle the worst of her shrieks. 

A loud clang, and sparks followed, the captain's hook catching the blade. Both men glared, cursed and then pulled apart, Rauol turning with his body, to swing harder with his weapon. Hook was already drawing his sword, bringing it forward to meet and parry Rauol's attack. What hope Damien felt, now expired, the man thinking there was no way now for the gypsy to win against Hook and his sword.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while. Lot of stuff going on both with writing, and offline life....don't really feel like getting into it. Inspiration suffered strongly for a while...kept thinking I really messed up in this fic, and couldn't understand why I kept getting faves and subscribers when I thought...well I was hating on my own fic, thinking I really did badly. Funny how three months go by, and then I reread it (I reread a lot, especially when there's been a long break) and I'm like "It's not as bad as I remembered thinking it was." 
> 
> So aside from a few minor mistakes, like a non speaking OC name getting changed from one chapter to another, I'm not hating on my fic now! I am kinda cringing on the timeline factor...right now I'm wondering if I should have made it Hook is 450 to Emma's 150...rather than 150 to his 300. Just the biggest goof I can think of having made. But I haven't gone and tried to fix the mistakes yet in earlier chapters. 
> 
> Expected this chapter to be further along, but I kinda...well I wasn't expecting it to be mostly Damien (Who had a speaking part in an earlier chapter) POV....I was actually thinking it be Rauol then switch to Hook's POV....but I like what was done. Hoping the next chapter can be a Hook POV or a double POV between Emma and Hook. Might have tried to continue this chapter more, but felt rather uninspired to write out a fight scene. It's been a loooooooooooooong time since I've actually written a sword fight out. Used to write fight scenes a lot in my other fandoms, but for Once I think this is one of the first times I have to write an actual sword vs sword fight scene. :O 
> 
> I also have to warn this is going to be a very long story. I don't know how long though, but I see it happening in four segments, or should I call them acts? Right now this is still Act One, and still a ways to go before it can ease into Act Two. I'm gonna do my best not to spoil anything that's coming, but want to make clear that Neverland, Tinkerbelle and Peter Pan are not the Once Upon A Time versions. Which OMG! SO many twists and turns, and they totally did a red herring on us with Peter's interest in Emma. What was that all about and why did they abandon it?! *flails* 
> 
> *runs off, still flailing* 
> 
> 2/17/2018 updated too
> 
> \----Michelle


	16. Sixteen

It wasn't often that Emma still felt like the scared, desperate, and most of all hurting girl that Peter Pan had first brought to Neverland some one hundred and fifty years ago. That girl who had been so wary, leery of males of nearly all ages, and holding an opinion that was not much better as far as women were concerned. The Emma Swan of the past had learned the hard way what malice existed in the world, the families that had made up her foster care experience the worst of the worst. It hadn't been just the adults, the children themselves had been changing, becoming ever more cruel and vindictive. Sibling love had been nonexistent, a rivalry instead leading them to compete and bully for every scrap of food, toy, and clothing. The weak had been preyed on by the stronger children, and they in turn had suffered at the adults' hands. Anger and resentment filled had the houses that Emma had lived in, the abuse birthing further cruelties. It wouldn't have taken much longer for the same to happen to Emma, for her to lose her kind nature, her hope and her dreams. 

She had been living on a borrowed time that had been ticking down, the walls closing in on her. Having been hurt in so many ways, and doing whatever she could reasonably do to protect herself, Emma had known she couldn't hide forever. It was only so long before her shorn hair, and dirt covered disguises would no longer work, before she endured worst than a beating, and suffered perversions that would scar her worse than a cigar's burn. 

So very conscious of this, Emma had been beyond desperate the night Peter Pan had answered her wish. Ordinarily she wouldn't have trusted even him, but he and the pixie that had sat on his shoulder, had both clearly been magic. And that had given her the courage to cast aside any fears and doubts she might have had, to go with them to a land that would surely be better than the world she had currently existed in. And it had been, Neverland something out of the dreams she had once had, the land magic and wonderful, and so like a child's idea of paradise. 

It was a paradise where Emma had began to thrive in, the girl no longer needing to hide, or alter her appearance. She was free to be herself, to be the kind of child she had always been meant to be, able to dream, to hope, and most of all to laugh and have fun. But it had taken time, Emma not able to immediately forget the lessons learned in her foster care experiences. It had proven difficult work to get over her trust issues, especially around a family where she was the only girl. A number of years would pass, before Emma would realize she had been in Neverland for at least a decade's worth of time, and no one, not even the older of her new band of brothers, had attempted to molest or bully her. 

That realization had lifted her heart and spirit, Emma finally able to truly fly higher than a few inches off the ground. She opened up not just to Neverland, but to the people there, her brothers but also the people Peter brought them to visit. The dwarves, the elves, and the Indian Tribes. Under the watchful eye of Peter Pan, Emma and the children were able to see that not all adults were bad, though the lost ones still rejected the idea of actually growing up to be one themselves. 

As Emma embraced Neverland, and all it had to offer her, her fears had receded, her dreams had changed, and most of all, the bad memories had been nearly forgotten. She had no longer been scared, and no longer haunted by the memories, able to live life like a normal girl. Or at least as what passed for normal here in Neverland. 

Understanding she was safe like Emma had never before been, it was only the pirates that had been the one blight on an otherwise perfect existence. First thinking Peter Pan had surely exaggerated, Emma had still listened to him where the pirates had been concerned. But she was curious, and as her curiosity grew, so did Peter Pan's stories, the boy stressing how wicked and cruel the pirates were. None seemed as evil and as frightening as their captain, and Emma had almost not minded being left behind the times Peter had gone off to confront Hook and his pirates. 

Almost, but not quite, Emma scared but still curious. And maybe she had been a little too quick to act, when an opportunity to break one of Peter's only rules presented itself in the form of Galen's capture. Emma had told herself she had acted out of necessity, but maybe subconsciously she had wanted an adventure of her own to boast of. Getting more than she had bargained for, times like these made Emma almost wished she had waited. That she hadn't broken one of Peter Pan's only rules. She had a fair number of regrets and wishes, chief among them the wish that Galen hadn't been captured in the first place. Because the pirates were scaring her, Emma conscious of just what she was and what they were. A pretty girl among a group of lusting men, the gypsy Rauol the worst when it came to reminding her of what could have happened to her. 

Emma didn't think that she was overreacting. What Rauol had done so far, might have seemed like nothing when compared to just how bad things could have been, she was still aware the man had only just started. He was testing her, seeing how far he could push her, seeing what she would allow him to get away with. Which wasn't much, Emma serious if paranoid about using the knife she had stolen from Smee's kitchen. 

But she had never meant to involve Captain Hook into her problem. It was her trust issues rearing up, but also old fears, past memories resurfacing as Hook and his pirates triggered Emma into remembering her old life. And with that old life coming alive in her head, Emma was back to being that scared little girl, desperate to do just about anything to save herself except snitch. She knew what happened to tattle tales, knew that they never evaded the fate they were trying to avoid for long. If anything they made things worse for themselves, Emma remembering siblings who had gotten brutally beaten on top of molested and raped. 

From her siblings experiences, Emma had taken to heart the message being sent out to the rest of her foster family. Keep your head down and stay quiet, lest you make things worst for yourself. Which is what Emma had tried, and Hook had still found out, and she still wasn't sure why he cared, but the pirate did. Enough to risk himself and her, the situation worsening right before Emma's eyes. 

Having slipped relatively unnoticed into the room, Emma had arrived just in time to see the end result of Hook punching Rauol. The gypsy had been stunned, but only for so long, and then the heated exchange of words had began, the energy between them tense, and growing stronger just before the true violence had erupted between them. Emma had barely been able to stifle the worst of her scream, almost unable to keep track of how fast the gypsy had moved, Rauol not only drawing his sword, but slashing at Hook in a way meant to kill. 

The relief she had felt to see his hook block the sword's blow was almost staggering, Emma actually sick from it. The room seemed to spin, and then tilt, Hook drawing his sword as Rauol once again tried for a killing thrust. Her hands to her face, Emma bit down on the knuckles of the fists she had made, the girl knowing not to scream at this most crucial time. Hook couldn't afford to be distracted, hell Emma couldn't risk what would happen next should the pirate captain make a mistake and lose. 

It wasn't just Hook's life on the line, it was Emma's, the girl far too conscious and afraid of what would happen should Rauol stand victorious at the end of this fight. Again Emma felt sick, nausea competing with a strong surge of anxiety, riveted by the fight, and far too aware of what Hook's death would mean to her personally. 

So stricken with her own fears, Emma still realized the fight wasn't just about her. She was merely the excuse, the catalyst for something bigger. Rauol wasn't shy about accusations, having mocked Hook for having a conscience that pirates weren't supposed to have. He was angry about something, and Emma could read the tension in the room to see that most of the other pirates present shared in that anger. But only Rauol had the nerve to give voice to what troubled them all, the others hanging back, giving a wide berth to the two combatants. Even Smee stood back, his hands betraying his anxiety by their motions, wringing out the dirty dishrag again and again as he watched his captain fight. 

Her every instinct screaming to run and hide, to get as far away as possible, and Emma still remained rooted to the spot. Watching and witnessing everything that would happen, and knowing no matter how much she wished otherwise, Emma wouldn't be able to affect the outcome of this fight. Never mind that she had no weapon, this fight was like nothing she had ever before borne witness to. The mock wars and sword practices she and her brothers had participated in truly seemed like child's play compared to this lethal and violent display of swordsmanship and skill. 

It was a world far removed from anything Emma was used to, the fury on the men's faces, the violent way they had at each other. They weren't just attempting to disarm each other of their weapons, but of actual limbs, Emma wincing then letting out a strangled sound at the way Raoul's sword tried to hack into Hook's shoulder. The pirate captain let out a sound through teeth clenched together, pivoting away on his heels, but not before Rauol's sword came away with blood on it. 

The room spun again, Emma letting herself fall against the wall at her back. Rauol's brown eyes had bled out to black with his blood thirsty passions, the man looking demonic in the moment. 

"First blood goes to me, captain." The last was spoken mockingly, Rauol holding up his blood soaked sword for all to see. 

"It's no worse than a paper cut as far as I am concerned." Hook retorted, not waiting for Rauol to finish showing off before swinging his own sword across the man's mid section. Rauol's shirt tore open, along with some of the skin it had covered, blood flying to splatter on the floor, on the sword, even on Hook's clothes. 

"Nothing matters but the killing strike." continued Hook, this time thrusting his arm forward as though he meant to impale Rauol from the front through to his back. The gypsy just barely managed to block the blow, actually taking several steps back to avoid the worst of Hook's sword. 

"You'll have to be quicker than that!" Rauol hissed, and reached behind him for the table. Hook lunged towards him, and in one smooth movement, the gypsy had used his grip on the table to hoist himself up on it's surface. Food and plates smashed underneath the pirate's feet, Rauol kicking Hook in the face. "Too slow!" laughed Rauol, blood trickling out the corner of Hook's mouth. It wasn't the only blood, even with the black leather of Hook's coat, Emma could see it was wet. But the blue eyed captain acted like it was nothing, fighting with Rauol, his sword and his hook both busy parrying Rauol's attacks. 

The gypsy wasn't letting Hook get up onto the table, Rauol maintaining the use of higher ground. Hook swung his sword at the gypsy's feet, and Rauol laughed, actually leaping up in place to avoid having his ankles cut into. The laugh died down, Hook having grabbed a plate of some kind of meal, flinging it at Rauol, who took it to the face. Emma would have laughed if she wasn't so scared, watching as Rauol flailed with both arms, his body tilting almost comically as the man started to fall backwards off the table. 

Scrambling to his feet, lashing wildly with his sword, Rauol used his other hand to scrub the food from his eyes. Hook didn't bother to go around the table, instead leaping over it, his sword being driven in a downwards slash that Rauol just barely blocked. Even with the gypsy's strength, Hook's sword drove Rauol's arms down, the gypsy open for a hit to the face. The captain's hook was brutal, tearing open the gypsy's cheek. Raoul let out a scream, his free hand going to his bleeding face, while his sword swung again wildly. Hook was forced to step back to avoid being cut, and then the gypsy was moving, throwing chairs in the captain's way as Rauol rushed for the room's door. 

The door opened just as Rauol reached it, another pirate walking into the gypsy's path. Rauol snarled, roughly caught hold of the man's arm, then flung him in the rapidly approaching captain's path. The pirate, a man whose name Emma didn't yet know, was nearly impaled on Hook's sword, the blue eyed captain growling in annoyance as he shoved the man away from him. 

Emma was the next one out of the door, even Smee not seeing her in time to make a grab for her. But he was fast on her heels, as was the other pirates, and someone was ringing a bell, which would soon draw nearly all of the crew out onto deck to witness what would happen next. But it wasn't the end of the fight, not by a long shot, Hook and Rauol now having room to maneuver better. 

Moving up and down the length of the deck, it was a deadly dance the two men engaged in. Blood was falling from both, the gathered pirates making a lot of noise, though all were careful not to pick favorites. 

Emma nearly jumped out of her skin, when Smee grabbed her by the arm, the girl quietly but firmly resisting his attempt to force her away from the fighting. But she didn't waste energy to glare at him, her eyes all for Hook and the man trying to kill him. 

"I'll be a better captain than you have ever been!" Rauol was saying, the gypsy having to shout to be heard over the roar of the watching pirates. 

"You get ahead of yourself, gypsy!" Hook snapped back. "You're not captain yet..." 

"Not yet." Rauol agreed. "But that can change in an instant!" The swords were a clashing clang of metal, sparks flying off the blades. At some point Rauol had drawn a dagger off his hip, and was using it to block the sharp curving metal that passed for Hook's left hand. 

"You're only going to end up dead, and you know it!" 

"Oh really?" Challenged Rauol. "Then why hasn't it happened yet? Why haven't you been able to kill me? I'll tell you why! I'll tell you all why! You've weakened! You know it, I know it, and now we all know it! That damn conscience of yours! It poisons you, and it holds you back!" 

"I have held nothing back!" 

"Haven't you?!" Rauol demanded. "Things could and will be so much better under new leadership! We won't want for nothing! We will take what is denied us, and once Neverland is bled dry of all it's riches, we will return home!" 

Emma could feel the excited energy of the pirates, could sense how very much they all wanted to go home. It was a want that was so strong, some of the men here seemed close to throwing down allegiance with Rauol openly, and the gypsy sensed it. 

"We won't just play at being pirates! We'll be the men we were always meant to be, not crippled by morals and a conscience!" 

"Not everyone thinks like you do Rauol. Not everyone is sick like you." Hook snapped. 

"OH? And how am I sick? Because of my interest in that girl?" Rauol asked, then continued. "It is not sick to appreciate the beauty dangled before us." If possible, the movement of the swords picked up speed, both men heated by what Rauol was saying. "It's a far bigger crime to leave such a flower on the vine, to let her first bloom be taken by another man." 

Emma colored in a mix of fright and embarrassment, able to understand what Rauol was implying. A few of the pirates turned to look her way, which only furthered her unease, Emma no longer fighting Smee quite so hard to remain on deck. She was so upset she barely took note of what Hook said in response, Emma a bit too panicked and frightened to even try to guess at his meaning. 

"She wouldn't last more than a night or two in your bed!" 

"At least she'd die with a smile on her face." countered Rauol with a smirk. Emma heard the words, but was too out of it to truly register what was being spoken about. She was already letting Smee drag her back towards the ships' mess hall, when the most vicious, most enraged snarl she had ever heard, from man OR animal, sounded. 

It was Hook, and he was beyond furious, launching himself at Rauol. The gypsy was waiting for him, having actually counted on such a reaction. But he hadn't counted on Hook being quite this angry, both swords going flying, the men falling to the wooden floor of the ship. Emma had time to see Hook's left arm raise, the hook glinting ominously in the sunlight and then Smee was covering her eyes. But not her ears, Emma hearing the sickening squelch of the hook being buried into Rauol. The gypsy screamed, and Emma heard more sickening sounds, and then silence as even the pirates fell quiet. 

"Anyone else have a problem with the way I run things!?" She heard the angry growl of Captain Hook, and for the longest time there was no answer. and then slowly, one by one, whispering than shouting in the negative, until they were all cheering and celebrating Hook's victory. 

Smee almost had Emma inside the mess hall, when she broke away from him to turn to look at Captain Hook. She couldn't see Rauol, or what was left of him. Not with so many pirates in the way. 

"Smee!" Hook shouted, looking around for the man who was the oldest and most loyal of his crew members. "Get this scum off of my ship." 

His eyes suddenly found Emma, and Hook seemed to freeze in place. The oddest of looks, a mix of shock and regret, maybe even fear mingled together, passing over his face so fast that Emma wondered if she had imagined it. Emma looked at him, and had no idea what sort of expression she herself wore, but she wanted to nod at Hook. It wasn't that she was okay with him killing, but Emma understood he had in part done it to protect her. And himself, Emma and Hook's fate tied together so long as Emma was a prisoner aboard his ship. 

But she didn't nod, couldn't bring herself to do anything just yet. She would still be standing there, almost frozen in place long after someone found and cleaned Hook's sword, and returned it back to him. Smee would busy the pirates into dealing with Raoul's remains, the loud splash of sound the water's only greeting to the gypsy's body. It wasn't until Rauol had sunk out of sight, that Hook finally moved to leave the deck, the captain walking past saluting pirates, and even Emma as he headed for his cabin. 

It wasn't until after Hook had walked past her, that Emma remember how to truly move and breathe. She blinked and stared at what had dripped on the floor, what was still dripping even as Hook walked an unhurried pace to his cabin. No one else seemed to have noticed, not with fresh blood spilt on so much of the deck. But Emma had, and this time she didn't freeze, didn't hesitate, as she hurried after the pirate captain. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pant gasp wheeze* I'm very rusty on writing fight scenes...kinda tired now too. X_X Still been over thinking the 150-300 or 150-450 thing. Ah well...I'm sure I had more to ramble about, but the need for sleep is affecting my babbling. I'll blame any more than usual typos on my sleepy state. X_X   
> 2/17/2018 you know the drill, updated a bit...
> 
> \------------------------Michelle


	17. Seventeen

There was a moment when the worst of his anger had fled, when the fury Hook had been feeling, gave way to something else, an odd mix of shock mingling with worry, the strength of his regret matched only by the weakness of his fear. That fear formed a knot of dread in his gut, Hook holding young Emma Swan's gaze with his own, searching her expression, waiting for something, revulsion and horror, maybe even an adult's understanding to dawn in her eyes. That none hadn't, not yet, seemed a small miracle in itself, Emma just standing there staring, an unreadable expression worn on her face. 

Sure that the girl was in shock, Hook fought past his own feelings to abruptly turn away from her. An odd churning of feelings unsettled inside him, Hook forcing a fierce glower in response to it, to her, to the madness around him. His pirates were cheering, loud but watchful, looking for a sign of any weakness Hook might accidentally show. That included everything from his shock and worry over Emma, to the fact that he was bleeding, hurt worse than any of his crew had yet realized. 

If the pirates had had any inkling of just how bad Hook hurt, they'd be on him in an instant. Swarming him like sharks who had scented fresh blood, the frenzy of fighting that would have followed being strong enough to overwhelm even a man of Hook’s caliber. 

As it was, Hook felt overwhelmed by the depth of the feelings swirling around inside him. The worry that he had, the shock that he STILL felt to realize that Emma had born witness to the fight. It was something she should have never seen, never been exposed to. It wasn't just the bloody brutality of the fight, it was the things that had been said. The not so subtle insinuations Rauol had made, leaving everyone with no doubt as to what the gypsy had intended to do. It hadn't just been about making young Emma Swan grow up, and it hadn't only been about the pirate's desire to leave Neverland. It had been a combination of both those things, making it a desire nearly strong enough to combat Hook's own 

Nearly killed because of it, Hook's expression took on a grim satisfaction as he watched Rauol's body drop into the sea. That bloody and mangled corpse stayed bobbing near the surface, it's throat torn out, and a good deal of his face mutilated beyond recognition. It was a cringe worthy sight even to the most hardened of souls, and for that alone, Emma should be screaming, should be running away from Hook and the others. That it hadn't happened yet, Hook put to shock, Emma too numb to everything to react the way that she should. 

She wasn't the only one, Hook quiet as he stared down into the water. The rage that had fueled him, the anger that had sustained him for so long, was almost gone, replaced by a bone tired weariness, and the awareness that he was losing too much of his blood. Appearances aside, Hook had lingered a little too long, and yet it wasn't until Rauol's body had sunk out of sight, that the captain gave himself permission to walk away. 

He saw the movements of his pirates, the crew saluting him out of fear and respect. He heard Smee shouting orders, the older man quick to see the ship set to right with a good scrubbing of the deck's floor. But most of all Hook saw Emma, the girl remaining rooted in spot. He walked past her, past them all with his head held high, his expression fierce to hide the tiredness that he now felt. He was unhurried, even as his body screamed in protest, Hook trying not to stumble as he made his way to his cabin. 

Hand shaking noticeably, Hook got the door open, and walked inside. The room seemed to spin and distort around him, the pirate struggling to remain upright and conscious, and then the door was closed, and he was falling, small hands touching on his body, thin arms lending him their support. The shock of Emma trying to hold him was nearly enough to bring them both crashing down to the floor, Hook leaning heavily on her as Emma half dragged, half helped him over to the nearest chair. 

He fell onto it's plush seating, and only Emma's hands were there to try to steady him. He got the second greatest shock of his life when he looked into Emma's face, and saw the worry there, the outright concern shining in her green gaze. His arm lifted, shaking fingers being brushed over her left cheek. She didn't try to immediately jerk back from that touch, instead touching the back of his hand with her own. 

"Are you going to be all right?" She asked, her worry for him immense. 

"Don't have much choice in the matter." Hook muttered back. Her confusion couldn't eat away at the worry, Emma frowning at him. "Got too much to live for right now." 

She didn't understand, Emma surely thinking of his demon, and the revenge that Hook was after. And though he still sought it, in this moment, his greatest concern was not that of Rumplestiltskin, or even that of Peter Pan. Instead he was thinking of Emma, of the immediate danger she would be in, should something permanent happen to Hook. In that moment, for her sake alone, Hook struggled, fighting against the tiredness, the pain and the blood loss. 

"You shouldn't be here." It was the truth in so many ways, not with him, not with his pirates, and not even in Neverland. But the alternatives weren't much better, Hook having gleaned enough from Emma's hinted at past, to know she had been in trouble long before Pan had come a calling. 

"You got hurt because of me." Emma was quick to point out. She let go of his hand, reached to tentatively touch fingers against the fresh blood on the coat covering over his shoulder. "If you hadn't have fought him..." 

But the fault was all Hook's. For capturing her in the first place, for exposing her to the pirates, for letting Rauol come anywhere near her. For that reason alone, Hook should let Emma go, and he almost laughed then to realize he was seriously considering it. 

"I must be getting soft." He said out loud. 

She blinked in confusion, her head tilting to one side to study him. "For?" 

"To even think of giving up on what I've wanted for so long. For what I've been after for over three hundred years. This is madness of the worst kind, to lose sight of it. And yet...." 

"And yet?" She prodded when his eyes started to close. The pain he felt when he tried to shrug jolted him awake just a little more, Hook sighing instead of answering. He didn't want to get Emma's hopes up, didn't want her thinking the chance was real, when things were complicating more and more. Never mind what she wanted, what Hook wanted, there was his crew to consider. And though he had never outright said to them the value he thought that Pan placed on Emma Swan, they had realized it all the same. They too were waiting, hoping, thinking the chance to finally be free of this place was here. The mutiny he was courting with them, would make Rauol's attempt look feeble in comparison, and Hook wouldn't survive it if the whole crew united against him. 

"Hook?" Emma was anxious in response to his prolonged silence. Hook blinked slowly, then nodded towards the table where some bottles lay. 

"I could really do with a drink." He said, and Emma immediately stepped back. 

"Yes, of course. Anything!" She exclaimed, already turning to make a run towards the table and it's bottles. He tried to watch her as she moved, but his weary state was making his eyelids heavy, Hook starting to close them again. Only to open them at the loud sound of the door opening, a furiously worried sounding Smee shouting his name. 

The door slammed closed behind the older pirate, the man rushing to his captain's side. He took one look at Hook's pale and tired state, and his frowning face began barking orders at Emma. 

"Get the kit from the bathroom." He was saying. "The one with the big red cross on it. And bring those bottles here, preferably the clear colored ones." 

"Don't forget the rum." Hook managed to mutter. Smee turned livid, looking as though he wanted to hit Hook. 

"Don't be absurd!" Smee snapped. "You're not to drink in this condition. Not with the amount of blood you've lost. You've bled a trail across the deck, that even that gypsy bastard's blood can't hide, and it's a wonder you're still even alive at this point!" 

"You know I won't die so easily." Hook countered, aware of Emma running into the small bathroom attached to the cabin. He could hear her rummaging around in there, but the sound was soon lost to Smee's worried badgering. 

"I'm not going to ask what that was about. I can guess." grumbled Smee. "But you shouldn't have been so sloppy! Not when so many depend on you." He was already working to peel off Hook's coat, both pirates wincing at the blood and the gash it had covered. "Just as bad as I had thought." He muttered, barely acknowledging Emma, as she came running back into the cabin, with the kit in her hands. 

The girl immediately set it down, and hurried back over to the table where the drink bottles lay. Hook was aware of her out the corner of his eye, watching as she began gathering up all the bottles of the clear colored liquids. A great tearing sound drew his attention back to the pirate in front of him, Smee having ripped apart Hook's shirt, to get it off him quicker. 

"It was already ruined." Smee said in defense. "All the washings in the world aren't going to get rid of that amount of blood." 

Hook sighed. "I suppose the same goes for my coat." 

"You've more important things to worry about then that!" Smee snapped. He was using the remains of the shirt, to try and staunch the flow of blood from the gash in Hook's shoulder, Smee muttering about not having enough hands for what needed to be done. "Damn it girl, what's taking you so long?!" 

Aggravated though he was, Smee still took the time to pale in response to the sight of young Emma Swan just standing there by the table. She had several bottles in her arms, but Emma wasn't moving. Instead she stood there, her eyes wide with fascination, her lips parted on a sigh. It was a slack jawed wonderment focused on Hook, the girl staring at his bare chest, and it's firm, muscled contours. 

It was a young girl's fascination, but there was also a woman's awareness there that neither Hook nor Smee liked. That first taste of an adult's appreciation, Emma's pink cheeks blooming redder when she became aware of Smee snarling at her to hurry. 

Smee snatched a bottle from the four Emma held, using his teeth to pull the cork free. The strong smelling vodka was immediately poured over the gash in Hook's shoulder, Smee trying to use it to disinfect the wound. 

"This is going to have to be sewn up." Smee was saying. "Otherwise you might really bleed to death!" 

"Just get it over with." Hook said, preparing to grit his teeth. Smee hesitated a second, looking at Emma. It was clear he didn't want to, but also had little choice, so let the girl press a cloth against Hook's wound while the man began digging out scissors and needles, and most important of all, a thick black thread. 

Emma's hands were trembling, the girl pushing down with all her might, as if that alone would stop the blood. Her face still wore that embarrassed color, and the girl was studiously staring at her hands, rather than look at Hook. Which suited him just fine, because Hook had his own flustered warmth coloring his face in response to the way Emma had looked at him. It wasn't that Hook was embarrassed to be ogled and openly admired, but the fact that it was a girl who had just done it. 

Aware that desire was power in Neverland, Hook was beyond uneasy by the interest Emma had shown at the sight of him shirtless. He didn't want to think that that one sight had done more damage than Rauol and the other pirates had combined, but Hook also wasn't about to fool himself otherwise. Emma HAD noticed him, and in a way that would be detrimental to her staying a child. 

Sick with worry, and the fault he was finding with himself, with the situation, Hook could only grimace in response to the new, unspoken concern on Smee's face. It hadn't been lost on the older pirate, the girl's reaction, and Smee was just as bothered, just as worried as his captain was by it. It translated into Smee's actions, the man brusque when speaking, and hardly gentle when sewing the thread through Hook's wound. 

It tore a sound from Hook's throat, a pained grunt he couldn't quite disguise. He nearly jumped in place when a small hand took hold of his, Emma's trembling fingers squeezing his own, the girl offering a comfort he could not, would not take. And yet she kept on gripping his hand, determined even as Hook's own grip was slack, not saying a word, but radiating so much clear cut concern. 

Grimacing more from that, from his own thoughts and worry, Hook couldn't keep from casting side glances at Emma. Her face was drawn with a worry she wasn't even trying to hide, enough feeling there that said that she was invested in Hook's survival. The pirate wished he could say it all had to do merely with the fact that her own safety and well being depended on Hook's surviving, but his gnawing instincts screamed otherwise, today's events having had a profound effect on Emma Swan for good and for bad. 

Wishing he could claim otherwise, the events of today had bonded them closer together. The fight, his own violent brand of brutality, should have sent her screaming, what he had done to Rauol not just ruthless, but mindless, Hook beyond livid, as he tore into Rauol, and maimed him beyond recognition. In that moment, all sense had been loss, his emotions out of control, Rauol made into an example not many of his pirates would find easy to forget. 

It wouldn't put an outright end to the mutiny, but for a time the pirates would remember this day, remember Rauol, and be reminded of why. Hook was not a man to cross on most days, but when feelings and females were added to the mix, he became near impossible to beat. In a lot of ways, the near mindless anger that Hook had felt, had been equal to the grief stricken rage that had colored his mood in the fights following after Milah's death. 

It had been roughly three hundred years since he had been that far gone. Three hundred years since he had been driven by the need to not only kill, but to torture and hurt. He had been worse than an animal, a savage blinded by rage, by his need to protect. Affected by Emma, by her pitiful plight, Hook had torn into Rauol much the way he wished to do to Pan. That he couldn't, weighed just as heavily on his mind as anything else that had happened, Hook looking at Emma, and whispering an apology. 

She blinked slowly in response. "For what?" Emma asked. 

"For...." But there was so many things to be sorry for, and not nearly enough time to make amends for it all. 

She began to shake her head no, Emma's own expression turning fierce. "I won't have you regretting what you did." She told him. "By killing that man, you saved me..." 

"But I...if only you knew...." 

Smee's pointed jab with the thread and needle, cut off what protest Hook had been about to make. 

"What is it that you think I don't know?" A puzzled Emma asked. 

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to speak the truth, to shatter Pan's lies so completely. Knowing the fate that was in store for her, the inevitable course Hook had sent Emma careening into, wouldn't stop it from happening. She would die, and it was more a mercy she do so in ignorance, spending out the remainder of her days in complete bliss. 

"Hook?" 

"There's some water that needs fetching." Smee said, still tending to the stitches that he was sewing into Hook's shoulder. Emma stared at Hook a second longer, before nodding at Smee, and moving to carry out the requested task. 

"You're not going to tell her, are you?" Smee asked quietly, once Emma had disappeared into the bathroom. 

"No." Hook answered after a moment's hesitation. "It will serve no purpose except to terrify her. And that's only if she'll believe." 

"Then what ARE you intending to do?" 

"Honestly?" Hook asked, and Smee nodded in turn. "I have no idea. Not anymore." 

"I was afraid of that.' Smee muttered, then at Hook's sharp look, hastened to explain. "As bad as you are for her, she's worse for you." 

"Worse?" questioned Hook with a glare. "How can that possibly be true?!" But he already knew, even without Smee having to answer. Because Emma's problems, her situation and circumstances tragic as they were, would end once she was dead. Where Hook would live on, to remember and grieve, knowing there had not been a damn thing he could have done to save her, knowing it was his fault it had happened so soon. 

"It's too late." He whispered, knowing it to be true. It had been too late from the moment he had flipped Emma over, and looked into her eyes. 

"Been afraid of that since the moment I first saw her." Smee grumbled. "Today only made it all clear. No one will be forgetting this day, not you, not I, not your crew. And you know why." 

"Because I haven't been that vicious since Milah." Hook said it out loud. Smee nodded, and pulled the last of the thread through Hook's skin. 

"There now. Can't say it won't scar." Smee said, just as Emma came in, struggling with a heavy bucket of cold water. Some of it sloshed over the sides, leaving a dampening trail behind her as she walked. "And I can't say the worst is over." 

Hook sighed at that, fighting not to glance at Emma, knowing she brought with her the worst of what Smee alluded to. 

"What CAN you say?" Hook asked out loud, and Smee didn't quite smile. 

"That I took care of the blood you spilt on the Roger's deck. His and yours, and the crew is none the wiser that much of it was from YOU." 

"Thanks, Smee. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

"May you never have to find out." Smee said in all seriousness. He turned a glance to Emma, the girl setting down the bucket to the right of Smee. "Thank you Emma, that will be all." It was a clear cut dismissal, and the girl wasn't at all happy to hear it. 

"You might still need my help." She protested. 

"There's nothing more you can do." Smee insisted. "A young girl is the last thing I or the captain need to be tripping over." 

"But I...." She glanced at Hook. "I wanted to thank him." 

"You just did." Smee pointed out, and Emma shook her head no. Smee impatience was bordering on furious, the man looking ready to yell at her. 

"Emma..." Hook spoke to stave off the explosion. "There will be plenty of time later for this." She narrowed her eyes at him in response, looking stubborn. 

"Just go already!" Smee snapped, dunking a rag into the bucket. The cloth soaked through with the water, the man ringing it out, and making an impatient gesture towards the door. "The captain is tired, and the last thing he needs is you arguing with him, OR ogling him while he tries to get clean!" 

The color bloomed in her cheeks again, a mortified blush dawning as Emma realized just what the bucket of water was for. "Sorry." She muttered, and all but fled to the room's door. Before it had even clicked closed, Smee was grumbling, his hands busy with the rag as he washed over Hook's newly stitched shoulder, and the blood stained skin surrounding the wound. 

Hook wished his guilt could be wiped away just as easily. But it, and his worry, his fear for Emma, his fear for himself, was as a strong a stain as any, touching his soul, and weighing Hook down. Burdened by it, by what he had done despite his best intentions, the pirate was barely aware of what Smee was now saying, the cloth going lower, scrubbing at the blood on Hook's abdomen. 

"I'm not one to tell you what you HAVE to do..." Smee was saying. "But you might want to think about distancing yourself from her." 

"What good would that do?" Hook asked, his tone and manner bitter. "She's already..." 

"She hasn't grown up just yet!" Smee was quick to point out. "And you just might save yourself some heartbreak if you..." 

"It's too late." 

"Captain!" Smee cried out in protest, his expression unhappy. Don't do this, don't let yourself get..." 

"I'm already involved!" Hook snarled. "And there is not a damn thing you can say, or that I can do, that can change that! It's Owen and the ones that came after him all over again." He started to lurch up out of his seat, shocked when Smee pushed him back down. 

"You're wrong. It's a dozen times worse than them!" Smee seemed to realize what he had done, going ashen faced and backing away from the chair. "I..I'm sorry...I'm out of line. But only because I am worried for you." 

"You're not the only one, old friend." Tired, Hook sighed. Smee bowed his head in reply, looking as defeated as Hook himself felt. No more words were spoken, Smee helping Hook to his bed. Sleep claimed him almost instantly, his dreams shaped by his worry. Haunted by it, by them, Hook was tormented with visions. Of Emma, but also of Pan, his true face showing, his claw sharp nails glinting red, a heart held in the demon's hands. 

Tormented by a fate that was inevitable, Hook jerked awake with a shout. His heart beat faster, his body having broken into a cold sweat. For one very real second, Hook was confused, wondering if it hadn't already happened, if the visions weren't dreams but memories. In truth they were both, Owen's fate mingling with Emma's, allowing Hook's mind to guess at exactly how it would go down. 

Shaken by that knowledge, Hook forced himself out of bed and into the cabin's shower. He scrubbed himself down, taking special care with his shoulder, then toweled off and got dressed. The chair in the main room of the cabin, stood in silent testament to yesterday's events, Hook's blood staining it's cushions. 

He ended up in front of it, staring down, replaying the moments, torturing himself with yesterday. With Emma, with the concern she had shown, the way she had stared, and most of all, how her trembling fingers had felt gripping his. His expression hardened in response to his pain, Hook biting out a fierce curse, as he went to retrieve his sword. It's steel couldn't lend him the strength that he needed, nothing in this world could. Because he didn't know what he was going to find, in just in what state Emma Swan now awaited him. 

Knowing the possibility existed, that she might have grown up during the time Hook had been asleep, the pirate prepared himself for the worst case scenario. But the ship was too quiet for Pan to be around, his crew going about their business seemingly without a care in the world. Hook stepped out onto the deck, the cabin door closing quietly behind him. The noonday sun blazed hot in the sky, it's bright rays cast down, making the water sparkle, and Emma's hair gleam golden. For one long moment, Hook just stood there staring, studying Emma carefully. She looked the same, not even an inch taller, but the relief wasn't there. Because he knew a change was happening, the girl noticing him. She offered him a shy smile, the faint blush of it visible on her cheeks. 

Hook couldn't bring himself to smile back, too torn up with his guilt over Emma. Over what he had helped do to her. And nothing, not even the rare treasure of her smile, could make things better for him, Hook torturing himself as he sent Mason running, his telescope being found. It would solve nothing, would absolve him of no guilt, but Hook needed to know if Emma still saw Neverland with a child's sense of wonder. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this turned into the chapter that did not want to end. X_X I also can't believe it's almost a year since I last wrote for this particular story. How time flies! But don't all jump on me at once. 2014 was not a successful year writing wise. I actually lost about five and a half months to no writing. =/ I remember literally the day after I wrote chapter 16, I came down with some kind of cold. I got sick three times in a row, and by the time I had felt better, not only had a lost my mojo for this story, I had lost my writing motivation for everything. It was very hard to force myself back into the hobby that I love. 
> 
> Then at the end of August, I didn't get sick, but I hit some kind of writer's block there too. I swear, if I wrote as much as I THOUGHT about writing, I'd have a lot more chapters to show for it! 
> 
> Anyway, so yeah. An update! I have mixed feelings about this chapter, though I like it for the most part. I just feel it wasn't as good, the scene where Emma sees Hook with his shirt off, as it was in my head. X_X 
> 
> Also been worrying about something that's gonna happen soon in the first arc. Worried more about the reactions than the writing of it. But the way I've been imagining it, it's necessary to happen. So I hope no one flips out too much over it. *sweatdrop* (No it's not sex!) 
> 
> I spent the earlier part of this week rereading the first 16 chapters and my notes. Still feel like I messed up a little on certain things, but am rolling with the punches. So now I'll wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving, or happy reading if you don't celebrate turkey day! 
> 
> 2/17/2018 still touching things up with minor updates...
> 
> \---Michelle


	18. Eighteen

She had gotten very little sleep, Emma's thoughts and her worries translating into a restless energy that had lasted the course of the past two nights. It had left her pacing, Emma having walked a path to the door what seemed a hundred times at least. And each time the door had remained locked, Emma trapped with nothing but her thoughts, left to think and to remember, and it was worse than the fright Rauol had given her because of the state of the captain as she had last seen him. He had lost so much blood, his skin had been so pale, his fingers trembling against hers. Hook had looked like a man close to dying, wounded and bleeding, barely able to keep upright on his own. 

Emma remembered the second she had seen him stumble, the moment that she had made the conscious decision to go to him. She had laid her hands on the pirate, actually tried to lend him what support she could, inwardly hurting at the thought that this powerful man had been rendered so weak because of her. She had been terrified too, afraid for him, afraid for herself, not wanting to watch him die, not wanting to admit that the chance of it had existed. She had found herself caring, impressed by Hook, by his concern. Touched by it, by a feeling that had taken root in her heart, some undeniable emotion that went beyond a wary gratitude. 

The lines had now blurred between them, Emma seeing Hook with different eyes. He was no longer just her captor, but a champion, protecting Emma in his own ruthless way. She could no longer believe he was the heartless monster Peter had painted him out to be. Hook simply cared too much, risked too much to see to Emma's safety, and she couldn't, WOULDN'T believe he did so out of ulterior motives. 

Believing in Hook in a way she had never ever believed in an adult before, Emma had almost wanted to cry, convinced that she was now losing him. He had been making strange comments, and seeming to drift in and out of the conversation, Emma having to call out to him several times to bring him back to it. She had been desperate to keep him awake, and had meant it when she had told him anything, too busy scrambling for the drink he had wanted, to even wonder at what she had offered. 

But she had done so much later, her face turning red. Embarrassed by it, by the word she had spoken, Emma knowing how dangerous the promise of anything could be, and instinctively now trusting that Hook wasn't that kind of man. He had become special, in a class all his own, and Emma had no other adult to compare him to. Him or the feeling that had burrowed it's way into her heart. 

Having no name for it, or the complex of emotions it was making her feel, an immense sense of relief was packed on them the moment that Smee had come barreling into the cabin. Not even his furious shout could have frightened Emma, the girl having recognize the sound for what it really was. Worry, not anger, and then Smee was barking out orders, his voice so authorative, that Emma had not only responded, but had dared believe things might turn out right after all. 

The hope back in her heart, some of the worst of Emma's fear had receded. Believing in Smee's ability to help, to make things right for Hook, Emma was blind sided anew by her complex feelings, lured into a flustered kind of shock at the sight of Hook's shirt tearing. The gruesome sight of his shoulder, she had barely taken notice of, Emma eyes giving him a slow once over, lingering on his muscled firmness, the sweat slicked pale skin, and the many rivulets of red that seemed to lovingly caress the lines of his body. 

One line in particular she had followed, the blood tracing a path down his abdomen, lower and lower, and it was like nothing she had ever seen, Emma's gaze admiring. Bloodied and cut as he was, Hook had also been magnificent, Emma looking at his injuries like a badge of honor, the wounds the physical proof of his protection of her. 

Awed by it, by him, Emma had still turned a mortified red upon realization that the men had noticed her staring. After that she had barely been able to look at Hook, every glance she did take stolen. She had spent so much time trying not to look, that it wasn't until Hook had made a sound, that Emma had realized Smee's care was hurting him. It was a realization that gave Emma courage, that made her reach out to Hook despite her embarrassment. Her shaking fingers had found his, Emma again trying to lend the pirate support through the warmth of her touch. 

The minutes that had followed seem both a blur, and explicitly detailed, Emma aware of the needle, of the way it had been threaded through Hook's skin. And of the pirate, Hook talking, apologizing for something he had had no need to be sorry for. A spark ignited inside her, Emma fierce in response to Hook's sorry. And fiercer yet when Smee had ordered her to leave. Prepared to argue, to stubbornly make a stand, it wasn't just gratitude that had made Emma want to stay, but a desperate need. A need that almost won out, despite Smee's attempts to bully and scare her. 

Embarrassed anew at just the thought of Hook bathing, Emma had all but run out the room. And had regretted it ever since. Because she hadn't known what had happened after, how Hook was truly doing, needing to confirm his state of being with her own eyes. She had wanted more than just to look at him, she had wanted to be there to help, to soothe and to comfort him. Most of all she had wanted to thank him, to let Hook know just how grateful she was, and again assert that there was nothing that he should be regretting. 

She hadn't gotten a chance to do any of it. Once out of the room, the way back had been barred, Smee refusing to allow Emma so much as even a peek at Hook. She had had only his word to go on, and Emma hadn't been able to trust enough to believe in Smee's claims, wanting, needing to see that Hook was on the way to mending with her own eyes. 

Denied that, the night had been pure torture, Emma upset and worried, trying the door, pacing, unable to sleep, unable to even try. Wound up tight with her tension, her guilt and her fears weighing Emma down, she had barraged Smee with questions upon his return. 

"The captain's just resting." Was all Smee would truly say, but Emma had read the worry in his eyes. Read it and responded, panicking, convinced Hook was still on his way to dying, and it wasn't until later, until after the morning's meal, when the cabin door opened, and Hook stood revealed, that Emma had finally given herself permission to feel something other than that negative, worrisome energy. 

Relief making her go almost limp with it, Emma had still enough energy to give a small smile to Hook. It was a shy curving of the lips, Emma so overwhelmed from it all, she had been about to run to Hook. She had wanted to laugh and to cry, to shout in triumph, to maybe even dance. But then it had registered, the thing that was missing, Hook's smile that normally came so easily to him, gone from his face. Emma's heart lurched, the girl assuming that Hook was mad at her. Suddenly everything was in doubt, Emma thinking him angry, blaming her for what had happened, for what had almost killed him. 

Not recognizing the guilt in his heart, Emma was incapable of understanding the look in Hook's eyes. Hurt by it, by the rejection that she thought Hook had given her, Emma abruptly turned from him. Bitter tears burned at her eyes, Emma's posture stiff as she made her way to the railing of the ship. Her hands curved around that smooth wood, Emma's grip going white knuckled as she willed herself not to cry. 

Around her, the crew was busy, actively making a point to not look. At her, or at Hook, but they were paying attention in a roundabout way, voices hushed with distracted conversation, as the pirates waited to see what if any new drama would unfold. Instinctively knowing all ears were tuned to what words would be spoken, Emma was pleased her own voice did little to betray her. 

"Did you sleep well?" It was not the question that she had wanted to ask, but it was the only concern she could truly voice. Smee had made it clear how much danger they were all in, how much trouble would be brought down on their heads, should the crew be made aware of how grave Hook's injuries had been. And with not even a full day's rest awarded him, Hook wouldn't survive another mutiny. 

Hook's answer was not immediate, as though he was considering what to tell her. Emma wondered why he complicated things, why a simple yes or no answer could not be voiced. 

"As well as can be expected." He finally said. The potential for hidden meanings were there, and he was too difficult to read, Emma fisting the railing in her frustration. 

"Good." She said in a clipped tone, watching as his shadow approached hers. And then it was swallowed, the two mingling, Hook standing so close that Emma could smell the clean scent of him over the salty breeze of the sea. 

When she risked a glance at him, her body brushed the side of his, Emma feeling his warmth, the silk of his shirt, and the way that his body flinched. She saw his reaction, his jaw clenching in response. Not knowing what to make of it, not knowing if she had hurt him, or if Hook was rejecting her again, Emma's own expression became angry. 

"If that is all..." She began to say, not knowing what would be better. His anger voiced outright, or hidden, Emma knowing either way it was tearing her up just a little to suspect Hook was tired of her. The idea of it made her furious, but most of all it made her sad, Emma having grown used to his teasing, to his smiles, to the attention he had paid her. It hurt something awful to think it had all changed, that he had changed, his feelings and manner no longer playful, Hook serious and brooding, and held a worlds away apart from her. 

"Emma, wait." Hook stopped her with a touch, a gentle grasping of her arm. She stared down at his hand there, at the electrifying point of contact that had set her off shaking. Fear, anticipation, Emma was torn on what to feel, what to think, and then he was letting go, reaching for something from the now approaching pirate, Mason. 

Her curiosity made her stay, her expression turning puzzled to see the collapsible telescope in Hook's hand. Her brow furrowed with her confusion, Emma not at all understanding what Hook wanted her to do, or why. 

"Just what is it you want me to see?" Emma asked, making no move to take the telescope from him. 

"Neverland." Was his simple answer. She only frowned in response, shaking her head no. "Emma, please." 

"What is the point?" She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "We both know what Neverland already looks like!" 

"I know what it looks like to me." He muttered in reply. 

"What is that supposed to mean?!" She cried out, then let out an exasperated sound. "There you go again, being cryptic. Hinting at a million things, yet saying nothing. I can't stand it! I can't!" 

"Emma." Hook's turn to sigh. 

"Look..." She said, interrupting him. "I am glad you are..." A hesitation, Emma remembering to guard her words at the last possible second. "Rested. But I am NOT. I am not in the mood for games, or for questions you won't answer." 

For one satisfying moment, Hook was shocked, Emma taking advantage to slip away. The distance she put between them soured her small victory, her every step taking her further and further away, and he wasn't coming after her, hadn't even made a move to try. 

Hook watched her go, took note of the stiff way that she held herself, the proud determination that she flaunted. Emma didn't turn around one single time, her hands forming little fists at her sides, hinting at the tension inside. She was upset, and he didn't understand it, didn't know what had caused it, the overly concerned girl of yesterday suddenly so hurt and so angry that Hook wondered if he had imagined that earlier smile. 

Confused by it, by her, Hook could only maintain a bewildered impression, watching as Emma disappeared below deck. 

"Women are strange creatures." An awkward Mason said from behind him. Hook immediately made him regret that, the captain spinning around so fast, Mason had no time to react. His hook was at Mason's throat, the blue eye captain snarling. 

"She's not yet a woman, and don't you be forgetting that!" Aware of the attention of his crew, Hook raised his voice to a loud bellow. "That goes for all of you!" 

"Yes, captain!" Came the uneasy chorus. Hook glared, and spat a curse, then stalked away from Mason. He could hear the relieved sigh that the pirate let out, Hook almost envying Mason for his so easily resolved troubles. But there was no easy fixes for what ailed Hook, the pirate bothered by Emma, by all of today's behavior, and the fact that he still had no answer to his most pressing question. 

Not knowing how else to get it, how else to force her to look and tell him what she saw, Hook angrily set aside the telescope on top of a closed barrel. He then made his way not to the mess hall, but the galley behind it, seeking out the man who was not only the ship's best cook, but Hook's closest confidante.

"Smee." 

"Ah, captain!" Smee's expression brightened, though his relieved smile paled in comparison to the shy curving of Emma Swan's lips. "It's good to see you up and about after...well you know." 

Hook nodded with a sigh. "I wish I could share in that sentiment." 

Smee was already preparing a plate, piling on a heaping helping of the lunch's stew. "Oh?" he raised a white colored eyebrow at Hook. "Did something happen?" 

"Anything more than what already has?" Hook asked in a wry tone of voice. Smee let out a sigh, a subtle expression of his disapproval. "She smiled at me, Smee." A tsk of sound was heard, but otherwise Smee was without comment. "And then she refused to look at Neverland." 

The pirate captain stared down at the plate Smee set in front of him, his ravenous stomach not caring that Hook felt too disturbed to eat. 

"I suppose it doesn't matter." Hook continued, wishing he could convince himself that it was true. "The signs are all already there...." 

"That they unfortunately are." agreed Smee, and his voice became equally as grave. "She was worried about you, you know. Spent the whole night unable to sleep, spent every chance badgering me with questions, trying to sneak in to see you." 

Hook wished he could be touched by her concern. Instead it was just further proof that Emma was changing, that Hook was going to be the death of her. "Maybe you were right, Smee." 

"Oh? About what?" 

"About distancing myself from her." But Hook knew no amount of distance would matter, the change still happening, her fate like so many of the other lost ones inescapable. 

"It'll hurt less if you do." 

He had no reply to that, a listless depression settling around him like a cloak. It was an old, familiar foe, the depression walking hand in hand with the grief he had had to endure over the years. Glum faced, Hook stared down at the stew, barely paying attention to Smee's attempt at chatter. 

"I've been making subtle inquiries." Smee was saying. "But so far it seemed that Rauol acted alone." The older man made a scoffing sound. "Bunch of filthy opportunists, quick to reap the rewards, but turn tail at all the troubles." 

"I'm worried about what he said though, what thoughts that gypsy bastard put into the crews head." continued Smee. "The way he was talking... 

"The yearning to leave this place is nothing new to the crew." Hook was quick to point out. 

"That may be, but Rauol was putting a new spin on old ideas!" Smee protested. "The whispers that I've heard, the things that he wanted to do to the Indian Tribes....It's got the men excited." 

"They can entertain such thoughts all they want, but we ALL know how difficult Tiger Lily's people would make things." Hook retorted. "You saw how they reacted when we had just their princess, the terrible price they exacted on us, that we still pay to this day. They'd slaughter us all before they'd let us make slaves of them, and any of my crew who think otherwise, are as big a fool as that damn gypsy!" 

"Fools they may be, but they are desperate and dangerous ones!" Smee cautioned. "Maybe you should..." 

"I should what?" Interrupted Hook with a snort. "Try to resume negotiations with that obstinate brave Tiger Lily calls father? After what we tried to force him to do? After we took his daughter, and tried to use her as hostage to start a war?" 

"Well when you put it that way..." Smee looked discouraged. "It does seem hopeless." 

"Many things do, here in Neverland." Hook grumbled, pushing the plate away without taking one bite of the stew. Smee was quick to push it back, insisting that Hook eat, telling him that his body needed the nourishment now most of all. 

Mumbling complaints around mouthfuls of stew, Hook only had to force the first few bites down. Then his hunger took over, Hook turning greedy. Wolfing down the stew, and going for seconds. It wasn't until after, when he was leaning back with a mug of whiskey in hand, that Hook bothered to thank Smee for all he had done. 

"I just wish I could do more." Smee murmured, expression downcast. "When I think of the young miss, and the others like her..." 

Owen and a dozen other faces flashed through Hook's mind, the children he hadn't been able to save. Their memories hurt, but not as much as Emma's would, Hook finding the connection between them special. For one second he allowed himself to think, to wonder at what kind of woman she'd be. The word extraordinary came to mind, and it didn't all have to do with how she might look, but with the spirit that she already possessed. 

Already one of the fiercest little flames he had ever known, Emma's spirit matured would have the strength to invoke change in all those around her. She was an impacting force, a dazzling beam of sunshine, burning brighter and brighter, and Peter Pan was going to snuff her all out. Hook could only hope Pan wouldn't make him watch, the pirate already so impotent with an inability to do anything, his heart breaking just a little more, until there was nothing left, Hook splintered apart by his grief. 

Unable to cry, unable to stay silent, Hook snarled and threw the mug down. It made a satisfying crash, shattering apart against the floor. 

"Captain!" Smee cried out, but Hook was already leaving, stalking out into the hall. The few pirates that dawdled there, took one look at their captain's face, then wisely busied themselves elsewhere. Hook flipped over a bench, set to trashing the room, when he abruptly stopped. He did an about face, Hook heading below deck, seeking out the hold, and finding an exhausted Emma asleep amongst the treasure. She was curled up on the bedding Smee had given her, blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. 

Hook knelt down beside her, his trembling fingers hovering over her right cheek. Unable to close the distance, unable to walk away, Hook muttering out many sorrys before Smee finally dragged him away. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blah...I have a love hate affair with this chapter. I really like the beginning, but had difficulties with the Hook Emma conversation. It was supposed to be an all Emma POV but then I realized I had nothing more at this point to write in her voice, so switched to a Hook POV. Another Emma POV will probably happen for chapter 19. 
> 
> 2/17/2018 and the slight revision updates continue….
> 
> \----Michelle


	19. Nineteen

Emma's sleep had been as disturbed at the minutes leading up to it, all her hurt feelings, her angers, and bitter disappointments, even her confusion, remaining. She didn't understand most of it, angry with herself, with Hook, with what she had allowed herself to feel. She felt foolish for having cared, for having spent many restless hours up with worry and concern, fearing for him, for his life. And yet she couldn't forget, couldn't ignore the feelings that had welled up inside her. The immense relief felt and the quiet joy experienced at the sight of Hook emerging alive and well, the driving emotion in her heart so overwhelming Emma had forgotten herself enough to smile. 

That smile haunted her now, Emma embarrassed by and regretting it. Regretting the emotions leading up to it, the sleepless night she had spent, the worries that had plagued her. She felt like the biggest fool in all of Neverland for letting herself soften for even one second towards the pirate. How it-SHE must have amused him, how it must be making him laugh to think Emma had been that worried, that caring. She could only thank God for small miracles that Hook hadn't been privy to all of it. That he didn't know the secret thoughts she had had, the feelings that Emma herself didn't understand, and the fact that she had considered him SPECIAL. 

Her heart would have broke a thousand times over if Hook had known all that, Emma relieved she hadn't been tricked into acting anymore foolishly. And yet it hadn't been enough to keep the tears from coming, the bitter hurt overwhelming her, leaving Emma sobbing and she hadn't been free even once asleep. Dreaming of him, of the pirate, but not as he was, but as she had seen him, Hook kind and impressive, and then he was kneeling over her, fingers not quite touching her cheek, a stricken expression on his face as he mumbled out apologies. 

She had hurt all the more for his sorrow, knowing it wasn't real, knowing that Hook wasn't real, the secret wish in her heart having wanted him to be sorry. Wanting him to be moved enough with feelings for Emma that he regretted the hurt he had dealt her. That he was sorry for it all, that he was in fact still the man she had been so impressed with. 

Wanting those things as much as anything else she had ever wanted in her young life, Emma had wept all the harder to know she wasn't going to get it. The tears started again long before she opened her eyes, Emma moaning, crying out in her sleep. Such was the magnitude of her distress, Emma didn't at first register the loud crash of sound that thundered ominously all around her. Or the sounds that followed, the faint noise of an alarm bell ringing, the loud repeating thumps of many feet marching. The shouts that she barely heard, too far below deck to hear the worst of the crew's screamed out exclamations. 

And then the booming sounded again, and it was closer, and louder, and something cracked in the sky. Emma awoke with a loud shriek of her own, jolting upright with the blanket clutched around her. She heard something falling, felt the shaking of the ship, and the roar of the ocean. And above it all she heard the thundering sound of the storm, Emma's heart beginning to hammer harder in her chest. 

Fighting the fear that was filling her, the fright that chased away all her other concerned and hurt feelings, Emma unsteadily lurched to her feet. The footing was unstable, the Jolly Roger battling against the sea itself, riding on churning waters, being lifted up then dropped by larger and larger waves. It sent everything not nailed down falling, chests sliding, even turning over, gold and jewels spilling all around her with loud sounding clatters. 

Emma bit back another scream, fought the rising panic, and made her shaking way to the hold's door. She didn't know what she would do if it was locked, if anyone would hear her screams over the storm, if anyone would care enough to come investigate. But she nerved herself to reach out, to try the handle, and breathed an immense sigh of relief to find it unlocked and turning. 

The door now opened, she stumbled out into the narrow hall. It was dark there too, Emma in the bowels of the ship, the only light coming from the windows, jagged arcs of white lightning casting brief flashes of illumination against an otherwise pitch black sky. The dark rumbling clouds, they hid even the stars, Emma not sure if it was still the same day, or if she had slept long enough for night to have actually fallen. 

She didn't stand around trying to figure it out. Her self preserving instincts were alive, her heart screaming about the danger, Emma fighting to stay rational, to think and not give in to her fears about what COULD happen. Not while the Roger was still intact, not while the alarm bell was still ringing, and she needed to make her way to the deck before something worse happened, and the crew decided to abandon ship. 

Making her shaky, stumbling way through the darkened hall, Emma found the steps that led to the next level of the ship. The shouts of the crew were louder here, but she still couldn't make out what was being said. She took comfort in the voices all the same, following them to topside, and then she was out on deck, surrounded by what seemed like pure chaos. The storm itself attacking, it's fierce howling wind tearing at her clothes, sending Emma's hair whipping wildly about her face. 

Amidst the long strands of gold, Emma took in the sights around her, of the flooded floorboards of the deck, the wood so slippery even the big burly pirates were having trouble staying upright. She made her way closer to the rail, intending to use that to support her, Emma's hand reaching out to damp wood that felt ice cold against her warm skin. The rain hadn't yet started, the storm bad enough that it had affected the sea, rousing forty foot high waves to come splashing onto the deck, wetting everything down. Emma clung harder to the rail with both hands, but she wasn't paying enough attention to the sea. Not with the sights all around her, the pirates busy. They weren't abandoning the ship, they were actively trying to maintain it, several pirates including Hook climbing up the rigging, Emma's shocked breath squeaking out of her at seeing the man so high up. There was no netting laid out to catch him should he or any of the other pirates fall, Emma frightened for Hook despite what her hurt feelings told her that she should be feeling. 

Those hurt feelings were all but ignored, Emma frozen in place. Watching the captain climb higher, hand over hook, his feet seeking purchase on the wet, icy ropes. He was moving faster than the others, catching at the flapping canvas of one of the sails. Another pirate who might have been Mason was just under him, helping Hook to secure the sail. Together the two men worked to roll and tie it down, the canvas sail too precious an item to risk it being torn up by the storm's winds. 

The other sails were being similarly tended to, not just on the Roger, but on the ships flanking it's rear. Emma could even see smoke, one of the other ship's sails having caught fire. The crew there worked to contain it, to keep it from spreading to the other sails, but they were having difficulty, the storm withholding it's rain. But not it's lightning, the jagged white lines of energy arcing across the sky. Again and again, and then one was striking the Jolly Roger, a loud sizzle of sound that was swallowed up by the sound of wood moaning. Screaming, Emma turned, one of her hands letting go of the railing. She saw the great beam of wood splintering apart, it's broken top half falling to the deck. She screamed again, when it landed on top of a pirate, the man falling silent and no one had noticed, or maybe they just didn't care! 

Panicking anew, Emma wondered why they hadn't yet abandoned ship. She began to let go of the rail completely, intent on the long boats, wanting to run to them, to reach for them, and to pitch over inside one. She wasn't thinking rationally, not realizing the long boats would most likely be swallowed up by a sea this vicious, or that it would take more than her thin arms to be able to man one. She couldn't even remember just where on the ship the long boats were kept, Emma taking a step forward just as the sky opened up completely, the fat drops of water coming so hard, so fast, it was almost like being pelted with frozen bits of hail. 

It soaked everything not already wet within seconds, Emma cringing, shivering as she walked. She was almost to the center of the ship, when the Jolly Roger lifted up on a wave, Emma screaming louder than ever in her life, the girl slipping, hitting the floorboards hard enough that she'd bruise. She tried to scramble up right, and there was a sound that let her know she was still screaming, the shrieks hurting her throat, as the ship abruptly was dropped, crashing hard onto the surface of the ocean. 

And with that drop, Emma slammed into the floor boards a second time. She thought she saw stars, thought she heard a furious shout that was even more ferocious than that of the storm. It was Hook, and he was screaming her name, and Emma whipping around on her hands and her knees, and finding he was still up in the rigging. 

"Hook!" Her heart lodged firmly into her throat, Emma watching as he dangled with a precarious one handed grip on the rigging. He was looking right at her, so angry, and it was too dark for her to make out the worry in his eyes. 

"Someone get her off the deck NOW!" Hook was bellowing, and there wasn't enough pirates moving fast enough to reach her. Another large wave came, but the ship didn't ride this one, the water crashing over the railing, over the ship, hitting everyone, and Emma wasn't big enough, wasn't weighted down enough to keep from being swept over. She screamed as the water pulled her with it, hitting the railing, and then going over it. She scrabbled at the wood, broke her nails trying to secure a grip on it. And then a hand was snagging hold of her wrist, and Emma looked up, shrieking. 

"Hook?!" 

But it wasn't the captain, but the surly faced pirate, Damien, his blonde hair flattened by the water. He held onto her wrist, but made no move to pull her up to the relative safety of the deck. Instead he just stared at her, letting her dangle, and Emma then realized that he was going to let her die, his grip starting to loosen, and she was grabbing at him, clawing up his arm, trying to pull herself up on her own. 

She heard him scream a curse in retort, and then another hand was grabbing her. His hook embedded in the wet wood of the railing, Hook hauled Emma up and into his arms. She wanted to start sobbing, ready to tighten her arms around his body, and then he was roughly shoving her away, into Damien's arms. 

"Get her out of the way, and make sure she stays that way!" Came Hook's orders. Emma's jaw fell open, the girl trying to speak. Did he not know what Damien had just tried to do, did he not realize that she had almost just died at the blonde pirate’s hands? She tried to tell Hook, tried to alert him to the danger, but her words were eaten up by the storm, Hook already having turned away, and there was enough distance now between them, that he wasn't paying attention, wasn't even trying. 

Screaming all the same, Emma fought and twisted against Damien's hold. She scratched her broken nails on what skin she could reach, hearing him cry out, and then he was lifting her, and Emma was screaming even louder, being thrown over the pirate's shoulder. He slapped his hand against her ass, spanking her harder when she still fought, kicking and screaming, and beating her tiny fists against his back. He never said a real word to her, just cursing to himself about what a troublesome bitch she was, and then they were below deck, and she was being thrown against the floor. 

Emma sprang up, ready to rush Damien, ready to rush the door that was already slamming shut. She had reached it too late, the door locking, Emma screaming, banging on the wood, pulling on the handle. Damien didn't even laugh, just walked away cursing, the storm raging on, and now Emma was physically hurt as well as scared, her bottom hurting from his repeated strikes to it, her body bruised and battered from the storm. 

Shaking violently, freezing cold and thoroughly soaked to the bone, Emma looked around the room. It was not the treasure hold Damien had locked her into, but some other room, a store house of some kind. Sniffling to herself, Emma began searching through the barrels, finding nothing but fish, nothing but the left over stores of the food the pirates had gathered, the meats that they had so recently hunted. 

There was nothing she could use, nothing that she thought would break down the door, or allow Emma to pick the lock. And certainly there was nothing to dry herself off with, no towels or blankets to keep Emma warm. She let out a sneeze, feeling sore, wet, and miserable, not even able to sit down at the moment. Worst yet she was scared, Emma fearing the storm, fearing the ship might start to go down, and no one, not even Hook would remember enough to come get her. Just like they hadn't cared enough to bother with the pirate who had been trapped under the beam of wood, Emma shaking, fearing the ship would lead her to a watery grave. 

Thoughts like these occupied her for hours, Emma too frightened to settle down, let alone sleep. She sat there shaking, shivering long after her clothes had dried on her body, Emma cold beyond measure and unable to get warm. She didn't calm down even once the storm subsided, the waters turning calm, the ship going relatively quiet. And then the door was opening, Emma cringing from the sound, huddled in on herself, her knees drawn up to her chest, and she was crying, barely able to recognize Smee, let alone able to hear what he was saying. 

"Captain, I've found her!" The older pirate cried out, holding up a lantern that spilled warm light into the room. Emma didn't move, didn't so much as speak, merely sobbing in relief when Hook pushed his way into the room. The pirate captain took one look at Emma's miserable state, and she heard him mutter several choice curses under his breath. 

"Is she all right?" A worried Smee was asking. 

"So cold...." Emma managed to say around her teeth chattering. Hook swore again, and then a third time, his fingers having tried to close around her arm, only to draw back as though scalded. 

"She's burning up!" Hook cried out in agitation. He seemed to take in just what Emma's surroundings truly were, a murderously angry look glinting in his blue eyes. 

"What was Damien thinking?! Locking a child up in here?!" 

"That's just it. He wasn't." Hook said in a sour tone, gathering Emma up into his arms. She was too frozen to truly respond, curling in on herself even once Hook lifted her up off the floor. She was carried out the room, carried out onto the still wet deck. Pirates were everywhere, putting the ship to rights. Even the sails were being let out, the canvas billowing in the now gentle breeze. 

Hook didn't waste time on addressing the stares of his crew, instead rushing Emma to his own private cabin. Smee was hot on his heels, the two men working together without a single word spoken. Emma found herself set down on the floor, Hook wrapping a blanket around her, while Smee ran into the bathroom. Sounds of the shower was heard, Emma being given a drink, and then they were pushing her into the bathroom, Hook ordering her to disrobe and get in the shower. 

Before Emma could do much more than blink stupidly at him, the pirates had left, the girl standing there shaking, cold and hot at the same time. She was understandable nervous to take off her clothes, not trusting anyone, not even Hook, to go that far. But the hot shower beckoned, Emma moving towards it, dropping the blanket, and clambering into the stall with her clothes still on. 

She sighed in relief at finally feeling a little warm, the hot shower chasing away some of her chill. She stood basking under the spray of water, sneezing again, and then again, until she was having a fit, the room spinning, Emma dizzy and leaning against the wall. Sick with the cold, burning up from a fever, Emma closed her eyes, as she slid down to the floor. The water continued to gently fall over her, and Emma couldn't keep conscious any longer, barely able to move enough to crawl out of the stall. 

What happened next was all a blur, Emma vaguely aware of voices. They were concerned, and there was anger too, Hook angry over something, or at someone. She was too sick to wonder, too sick to focus, Emma slipping in and out of conscious, barely aware of anything, anyone. She was like that for hours, maybe days, the sea fever and chills having taken strong hold of her. 

Sometimes she was aware enough to make out Hook's worried expression, the captain and Smee both taking turns sitting with her, trying to nurse her through the worst of her illness. But mostly Emma just maintained a fitful sleep, restlessly turning, endlessly moaning. How long she was like this, Emma couldn't say, but eventually her fever broke, the chills went away. She was still sick, but Emma was no longer at death's door, the girl's eyes fluttering open. 

Her gasp was pronounced, a sharp exhalation of air. Fir Emma had found herself not in the ship's treasure hold, but in what had to be the most comfortable bed she had ever had the privilege to sleep in. It was like nothing from her foster home experiences, and it was nothing like her alcove back at the tree house. And it was a world's way apart from sleeping on bedding on the cold, hard floor of the ship. 

It was in fact the captain's bed, Emma situated squarely in the middle of it. The shock of finding herself in Hook's bed, was enough to get Emma shaking off her lethargy, the girl sitting upright, and gasping again. Because she wasn't wearing her clothes, the green tunic replaced by a long silk nightshirt. A MAN"S nightshirt, and wasn't Emma turning red, as she vaguely recalled Hook laying hands on her, stripping the girl of her soaked clothing, putting her in one of his shirts, then bundling her up in his blanket strewn bed. 

But that wasn't the only memory she had, Emma experiencing her vague recollections from the times she had been lucid. Of Hook sitting with her, holding her hand, or reading to her. Of Hook and Smee taking turns putting cold cloths on her, trying to break the worst of her fever. Of Smee trying to feed her, Emma only taking sparing spoonfuls of porridge. And most of all the worry in both men faces, Hook looked broken by the pitiful sight of Emma nearly dying. 

The hurt feelings she had had, the anger and confusion, the bitter disappointments had died with her fever, Emma again daring to believe. In Hook, and in the kind of man he was, the girl certain he hadn't done anything more, that his hand hadn't lingered inappropriately, that he hadn't touched her in a way that would have made her uncomfortable. Emma was certain she hadn't been molested, and what's more, she was amazed by that fact, Hook so unlike any other adult she had ever known, not acting to take advantage. 

His behavior towards her, his restraint had made their impression, Emma's heart swelling with deep emotion. She found herself touching the front of her shirt, lifting the collar up, so she could sniff at it. It smelled mostly like her, but there was the faint clean scent of Hook there too, mingling with hers, creating something uniquely pleasing. Emma smiled to herself, and it was an expression that would have startled her had the girl looked into a mirror. Because that secret smile expressed, held a grown woman's satisfaction, Emma caught firmly in the grip of her first enduring crush. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty happy with this chapter. Though yeah, this is the one I was worried people would flip out about. The part where her clothes had to be changed while she was passed out. But I felt it was important, cause it was supposed to be about Emma realizing Hook didn't do anything to molest her when he had a prime opportunity to do so. It's about his behavior impressing her, making her feelings for him grow. I did think I would have the chapter end at a different point but...I think it will better served to happen next chapter. 
> 
> I debated on if 19 would have the storm or not. I originally wasn't sure if I would get Emma's feelings to the place I need them to be, but the way she was feeling in 18, and even 17, well her feelings had shaped up nicely, and served my purpose. So I was able to have the storm happen quicker than I had anticipated. I really feared to get Emma to the place she needs to be, it would take me many more chapters. I was scared arc one was gonna drag on for forever, trying to get Emma's feelings to the right place needed. So I am happy I got it there in a much more timely manner. 
> 
> I don't know if anyone remembers Damien. He had a POV narrative along with Rauol in like 15 I think. He's furious with Emma, cause he blames her for getting Rauol killed. Rauol being who Damien thought was the pirates best bet to defeat Hook, and then lead them all home or to a better life. He doesn't care about Rauol as a friend or as a person, but as a tool to get them home, or make their lives better than under Hook's rule. 
> 
> So he purposefully locked Emma in that cold store room, because of hatred and his own personal vendetta against her. I keep imagining a furious Hook whipping him or something, and that's before he finds out from Emma that she thinks Damien was about to let her fall to her death in the ocean! XD 
> 
> I'll probably have to get some sleep before I can think of figuring out my opening paragraphs for 20. But who knows, maybe I'll surprise myself and write more tonight! It's almost 3:30 am at this time, and I still have to spell check and proofread.....X_X 
> 
> Slight revisions updated on 2/17/2018
> 
> \----Michelle


	20. Twenty

The weather that had followed in the wake of the storm was as near to perfect as a sailor could ask for. The skies were a serene blue, the waters below it downright clear in their tranquil state. That gentle sea slapped a light, lulling sound against the sides of the ship, and the Roger itself settled without complaint a top the surface of it. 

There was a gentle spring breeze that ruffled Hook's hair, sent warmth caressing over his skin. The spring and it's efforts were wasted on Hook, the man openly scowling. Hook wore his displeasure like it was a new coat, the man angry, visibly annoyed and spoiling for an excuse. That Hook would have welcomed a fight just as much as he would have a return to his cabin was clear, his narrowed gaze intent not on the pirate before him, but at the door. 

Smee was an unflappable presence before Hook's rage, his own eyes narrowed in stern determination. He seemed an immoveable force, his hands on his hips, his head shaking out a firm no. Hook's lips parted, the captain ready to lay into the pirate, into a man who on most days he considered his closet friend, and it wasn't going to be enough, Smee just as determined and concerned as Hook. 

"You've been cooped up in there for days now." Smee was saying, his tone a chiding chastisement. "It'll do you a world of good to get some fresh air." 

That fresh air he barely took note of, Hook maintaining his fierce glower. "She...." 

"The worst of it is over." Smee cut him off. "Emma is going to be fine now that she's free of the fever." 

"But she..." 

"She is just resting." Smee asserted reassurances. "Fighting the fever took a lot out of her. It's no wonder that she's yet to wake up." Hook's brow drew together, his glaring displeasure not tamed one bit. "At this point, I am more worried about you." 

"Me?!" Hook was surprised. 

"When was the last time you slept for more than a handful of minutes?!" Smee demanded. 

"She needed me." Hook simply said. 

"You didn't have to shoulder that burden all alone." Smee reminded him. "I was more than ready to pick up your slack, if you would have allowed me!" A hint of agitation in the man's voice, Smee not at all happy that Hook grudging behavior had taken the brunt of Emma's care onto his shoulders. 

Hook couldn't figure out how to answer, couldn't think of the words that would lessen the offense about to be given. Smee was a good man for a pirate, and he had been concerned in his own way for Emma. Hook innately knew that Smee wouldn't have let the girl die, that he would have done his best to make sure she pulled through. But that knowledge hadn't been enough, Hook feeling, nay fearing, that Emma might die the instant the pirate stopped maintaining his vigil. 

That the fear was only partly irrational didn't matter, Hook unable to tear himself apart from Emma's side for longer than a few minutes. He had barely slept, had barely broken his fast, eating only at Smee's insistence, eating only to maintain his strength in case Emma had need of it, of him. 

For all his self neglect, Hook had never felt more energized and worried. It was as if his fear kept him in a hyper alert state, the need for sleep not only near nonexistent, but the effects of it too. Hook hadn't been feeling tired, hadn't allowed himself to. His concern and his worry the driving forces behind his insomnia. It and Hook could go on for hours more, though a crash was coming. 

Knowing that it was an inevitable fate, Hook still balked at the idea. At sleeping for more than a few minutes, and at doing what Smee was asking. The few minutes that Smee asked for, that he insisted Hook take for himself might as well have been a small eternity, every second of self indulgence an agony of guilt and misgivings. 

"Smee..." 

"Captain, NO!" Smee snapped in retort to Hook's growl. "Ten minutes is all I ask. Ten minutes to take a breath for yourself." 

He looked so heartfelt earnest now, expression so pleading. Hook let out an exasperated sound to Smee's plea, nodding a grudging yes that had Smee not quite beaming. 

"But no more than ten minutes!" Hook added, and Smee nodded in understanding. 

"Of course, of course." He was saying, but his relieved expression showed that Smee was not yet done worrying. "You need to eat something too. I'll go prepare a plate. MASON!" Smee bellowed for the other pirate, a man whose every visible inch of his body was covered in tattoos. He should have been a fearsome sight, instead Mason looked nervous, visibly intimidated by the depth of Hook's annoyance. 

In a move that was blatant in it's intent to keep Hook distracted and away from the door, Smee strongly suggested Mason brief the captain on the goings on of the ship. Most notably the few repairs that had been needed, the Jolly Roger not so lucky as to remain completely untouched by the worst of the storm. 

His scowl's focus on Smee's retreating form, Hook only half listened to the things Mason was telling him. A mast had broken, one of the lesser that had stood flanking the main one. For that reason alone, the Roger was stranded, another one of Hook’s remaining ships making for the mainland in it’s place. That ship was intent on securing a replacement mast for the Jolly Roger, the great oak trunk of one of the smaller trees that bordered the edge of an endless forest of giants. 

Of the five ships that made up Hook’s motley crew, the Jolly Roger was the second LEAST damaged. The others hadn't been nearly as lucky, as many as two damaged enough that their crews had been forced to abandon the ships as lost. The men that had survived the storm and the sea, were now weighing down the remaining ships, the crew spread out equally over the three. The loss of life hadn't been anywhere as bad as the loss of those ship's treasure, and at least one was devoting itself to trying to salvage the wreck. Hook thought it a lost cause, much of those two ships and their treasure already at the bottom of Neverland's sea. A few bits and pieces still littered the tops of the water, a few chests that had opened, spilling out the heaviest of their coins. 

The loss of treasure was bad, but there were blessings to be found after the storm. Of the three canvas sails the Jolly Roger maintained, none had been torn, such damage avoided thanks to Hook's own efforts, and that of many of his crew. They had risked their lives to climb the wet rigging, and had come away safe, now reaping the rewards of having three functioning sails. 

The wooden mast that had splintered, the top half of it falling? It had hurt but not killed the pirate beneath it. The man was recuperating even now, sore and bruised black, but enjoying the excuse his injuries gave him to keep away from the repair work. 

What other damages the storm had done, had been minor where the Jolly Roger was concerned. A window had been shattered, the waves that had battered the ship flooding it's locked room. A few supplies had been lost because of that flooding, too hopelessly ruined by the sea, or in one case having been carried out through that broken window to join the other treasure now littering the ocean's floor. 

Mason prattled on about it all, and Hook only half listened. His attention focused on counting down the seconds, his heart still back in the cabin. And remain there it would, so long as Emma was unconscious and bed bound. The two days that had passed? They were among the roughest of his long life, the fear and the worry surpassed only by the grief that had dealt Hook immense losses in his past. 

Weakened by it, by her, Hook had known his private pain would be tantamount to equal that of Milah's, young Emma Swan having left her impact on the pirate's heart. He felt touched by her, by a connection that was in it's infancy at best. He would never forget her, would never be able to even try, many pain and regrets coloring him and it didn't matter if the storm had killed her instead of Pan, Hook finding the fault in himself for placing Emma in all manner of danger. 

It wasn't limited to just the storm and what Peter Pan would do to her. Hook fixed his glare on a pirate, the blonde whose hair was always so greasy with oil. Damien was moving with exaggerated care, the wounds on his back still red and raw, the flesh there made ugly from a whip that had made a lasting impression on his skin. Hook's one regret where Damien was concerned? That Hook hadn't been the one to take the whip to him, the captain delegating that act to another, unable to tear himself away from Emma's side long enough to punish Damien himself. 

Mason had more than done Hook proud, the captain admiring the raw mess of Damien's back. Mason might have even enjoyed it, the surly Damien hardly a popular fellow among the crew. Hook couldn't understand, couldn't fathom how Damien could be so stupid, never dreaming of the hidden malice in the blonde pirate's heart. 

Not suspecting that Damien's action has been done on purpose and in spite, Hook had still been livid over what the blonde had nearly caused. The life he had nearly stolen, Emma sick with the fever and the chills for two whole days, and Damien wouldn't have lived for much longer if the girl had ended up dying. 

That she hadn't felt like a miracle, her skin no longer burning hot to the touch. The wet cloths had worked their magic, keeping the fever from spiking any higher, the cold dread Hook had been battling since the night of the storm at last abating. Emma was going to be all right, she had survived to live longer, and not even the looming threat of Pan could ruin the relief, the quiet joy Hook had felt filled with. 

For one shining moment, Hook had focused on the here and now. He hadn't grieved over the past, and he hadn't worried for the future. He had simply taken in the sight of Emma asleep, her restless moaning having quieted, the girl finally at peace and taking an exhausted rest. He had gripped her small hand in his, and had thanked a God he had long since stopped believing in. Smee had found him like this shortly after, and had all but pried Hook's fingers from around Emma's. 

Dragged from her side, from the room, Hook had let Smee badger him out for some air, not because the captain had thought he had needed it, but because the pirate hadn't wanted to risk waking Emma with their argument. An argument he hadn't exactly won, Hook sighing again, recognizing Mason's presence for what Smee had intended the tattooed man to be. A distraction, and a deterrent, Mason keeping Hook from the room just as effectively as Smee had. 

Trying not to grumble out loud, Hook glared at the returning Smee. The man was smiling too much for the pirate captain's liking, Smee carrying a plate with the day's lunch heaped upon it. It was clear the old man was satisfied with having gotten his way, and his smile didn't falter for even one second in response to Hook's glower and agitation. 

"Here you go, captain!" A cheerful Smee presented the plate. "The best cuts of meat, just for you." 

The appetizing aroma made Hook's stomach growl, the pirate finally able to acknowledge to himself that he was hungry. He took the plate from Smee, speared a large piece of the veal with the top of his hook, and had to fight to keep from vocalizing his hunger's appreciation. 

"If that will be all..." Uncomfortable with the captain's angry demeanor, and having work to still over see, Mason was quick to seek to excuse himself. 

"Oh! Of course, Mason!" Smee turned his smile on the tattooed pirate. "I'm sure the captain is thankful..." Both pirates ignored the rude snort from Hook. "For all you have done." 

"I'd be more thankful if you two hadn't conspired against me." Hook grumbled after Mason had fled to the far side of the deck. 

"Don't know what you mean." Smee brightly pretended. 

Hook growled at him, the sound competing with the noise his stomach had made just seconds earlier. Smee chuckled in response, Hook further annoyed, even as his taste buds exploded, the brown meat all but melting on his tongue, the veal so soft and so succulent when cooked to perfection by Smee's hands. 

Wondering if Emma would awaken any time soon to enjoy the left overs of this tasty meal, Hook ate as fast as he could risk, then shoved the plate back at Smee. The pirate took it from him, and handed over a rag, Hook using it to clean his hook of the meat's juices. 

"There!" He exclaimed with a touch of dramatic. "I've done all that you asked." 

"And complained every step of the way." Smee pointed out, but nodded all the same. "I guess there's no helping it." He sighed. "You'll keep at it until you drop, and then you'll have no choice but to take a rest." 

"I'll rest when I have to, and not a minute before it." Hook said, handing back the rag. He wanted to run to his cabin, but he was aware of the men all around them. It forced him to maintain an unhurried, dignified pace, every slow step a torture that wasn't alleviated until after Hook was inside the cabin. 

The door closed besides him, Hook breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't immediately notice the movement from the direction of the bed, too busy grumbling and complaining quietly to himself about Smee's meddling. It didn't matter that Smee was right, that Hook had needed a moment, that he had needed more than just food and sleep. All he could focus on in his annoyance, was that Hook had been dragged away from Emma, and it didn't seem to matter that she didn't need him as badly as she had just an hour earlier. 

Still not completely reassured that the fever was gone from her, that it would not make a return, Hook began to turn towards the alcove that was dominated by his bed. He nearly froze in place to realize what he was seeing, Emma sitting upright, and nervously tucking her hair back over her ear. 

"Emma!" Hook cried out her name, and it was as if pixie dust had a hold of him, Hook almost flying the distance to the bed. His feet never actually left the floor, but his heart soared all the same, Hook forcing himself to stop at the foot of the bed, to not get any closer to her. "You're awake!" 

She didn't laugh at him stating the obvious, Emma carefully nodding her head. Her green eyes were fixed on his face, Emma studying him with an amount of great curiosity. Not knowing what held her interest, Hook asked her a question. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Better than I can last remember." She said, a smile curving at the comers of her mouth. Any murderous thoughts Hook would have directed to Damien were lost to Emma's smile, Hook risking a relieved one back at her. It only made her smile blossom, the girl looking so happy in the moment. "What happened to your face?" 

"My face?" Hook asked, his hand lifting towards it. He felt the hair there, the stubble he normally maintained having grown out to a thick fur on his cheeks and his chin. Since the night of Emma's fever, Hook hadn't bothered with shaving, too busy watching over her, to care much for himself. 

"It's too hairy." Emma complained. "I don't like it. It makes you look like a whole other person." 

"I'll shave it off just for you." He said without thinking, and was rewarded with another one of her glowing smiles. "Careful!" He exclaimed, seeing her suddenly inched towards the edge of the bed. "You're still not well enough to be up and about..." 

"But I feel like I've been in that bed for just about forever." Emma complained. "Can't I just take a walk around the room?" 

Hook was all set to tell her no, when she added a please to her request. With that smile, and that bit of politeness, Hook found there was almost nothing he wouldn't do, so little he would willingly deny her. 

"All right, just for a minute or two." He allowed, then hurried to assist her when she seemed to sway unsteadily on her feet. To his surprise she didn't recoil, didn't so much as flinch back from his hand and his hook touching on her waist. Instead Emma thanked him, wrapping her arms around one of his. Clinging to him as they began a slow pacing about the wide floor of the cabin. 

Hook was too relieved, too overcome with the surprise and the joy of Emma's smile, that he hadn't taken time to truly wonder what it all meant. Maybe it was the lack of sleep catching up to him, maybe Smee was right, and Hook was that much closer to dropping, too tired to do anything as energetic as worry. Because the signs were there, Emma smiling too much, her eyes intent on his face rather than on the path that they walked. 

"Did everyone make it through the storm okay?" She asked, and Hook hesitated. "What?" 

"Yes and no." Hook finally admitted. "The Jolly Roger and the men aboard it were exceedingly lucky. Two of the other ships however..." 

"I am sorry." Was her simply answer. "How are YOU doing?" She asked after a second's pause. "How are you feeling? How is your shoulder feeling?" 

"I'm fine." He was quick to assure her. "My shoulder is healing quite nicely, though there will be some scarring. But considering how bad the wound was, the scar will be me getting off easy compared to what could have happened." 

"You could have died." Her tone was quiet. 

"But I didn't." Hook was again quick to reassure her. 

"But you could have." Emma insisted. "That's why I....that's why I HAVE to thank you." 

Hook was uncomfortable with her gratitude. "That you were in danger in the first place, was MY fault." 

"I don't see how." Emma insisted. "You aren't responsible for that man's actions." 

"But I AM responsible for that bas-that gypsy being anywhere near you." Hook insisted. "If I hadn't kept you captive..." 

"You protected me. That's all that matters." Emma said. Hook wasn't so sure it was as simple as that, but he didn't want Emma exhausting herself with arguing. He just made a sound in return, a noncommittal noise that neither agreed no disagreed with Emma's sentiments. 

"You protected me from more than just him." Emma added, rather than let a silence drag out between them. Hook raised a curios brow at her, and she blushed. "I may not have been awake for most of it, but I remember you. And Smee. But mostly you." 

"Ah." 

"You watched over, and took care of me." She said, Emma still flustered. "And you never once......" She shook her head, her green eyes amazed. "Even with all the chances you had." She kept on clinging to his arm, Hook aware of the press of her body against his, the girl's gaze shining with an adoration that made him uncomfortable. "You're nothing like him." 

"Rauol?" Hook guessed, and watched how she hesitated. 

"Him too." Emma murmured. "But you're nothing like the monster Peter made you out to be." 

"I'm still a pirate, Emma." Hook was quick to point out. 

"Yes. But you're different. Like no other adult, male or female, that I've ever known." She practically whispered the next. "You're like a dream I once had, some impossible wish made flesh, and I don't ever want to wake up." 

To say Hook was flabbergasted by her words would be an understatement, the pirate captain having no idea how to respond. The words wouldn't come, the thoughts and the worries in his head offset by his anger. A girl like Emma, hell any child, shouldn't know the kind of things she had known, the amount of abuse in evidence startling. Saddening, maddening Hook beyond furious with the figures of her past, wondering who and what had happened to hurt Emma so badly, that she looked upon a pirate as special, and as an example of what others should attempt to be. 

Gently, he began to try to pull free of her arms. She just held on tighter, Hook muttering about how he was no hero. 

"You're MY hero." She insisted stubbornly, her green gaze locked with his blue one. "And that's NEVER going to change." 

"Emma, you've been sick for two whole days." Hook gently told her. "You're bound to be confused. When you are better..." 

"What I feel won't change." Emma retorted, an odd quiet passion in her voice. "And if you can't believe in your good qualities, then I'll believe for you!" 

"I don't have any good qualities!" Hook protest sounded desperate. "I'm am as bad as Pan says, I'm only using you to get what I need from him. That's why I protect you." 

"NO!" Emma shook her head hard and fast, her blonde hair bouncing about her face. "You could have let Rauol do what he wanted. I didn't need to...I didn't have to remain untouched, so long as I survived long enough for the exchange." 

Inside and out, Hook despaired, not just at Emma's stubborn admiration, but at the knowledge she showed. The ideas she had entertained, the fears Hook had protected her from just as surely as he had protected her from Rauol. "I'm sorry." He said to her. "I am not anything like the man you now think I am. I am violent and self serving, and all the other things that Pan has told you. And if you won't believe me, then I suppose we can get Damien to show you." 

"Damien?" Her brow furrowed, her smile dimming. "What?" 

"I made a red ruin of his back." Hook explained. "As punishment for what he did to you." 

"Well he deserved it!" Emma replied. "He was going to let me die." She shivered and let go of his arm, hugging her own around herself instead. "I'll never forget that moment, never forget the look on his face, and how his fingers had started to let go. If you hadn't come when you did, he would have dropped me into the sea!" 

A quiet rage came over him, Hook fighting past it to try to remain rational. "Emma, are you sure about this?" She nodded her confirmation, and without a second word spoken, Hook pivoted towards the cabin door. 

"Where are you going?!" Emma cried out, still too weak and tired from her recent bout of fever, to keep up with Hook's longer, more purposeful strides towards the door. 

"Damien's not going to get away with this." Hook answered in a grim tone. "I'll make sure the lesson is pounded into his head, that he, that not any one, is allowed to hurt a child onboard my ship!"

"Hook!" Emma exclaimed, following him out onto the deck. Her anxious shout drew the attention of the crew, Hook stalking with an angry, determined purpose towards the blonde who had lost his normally surly disposition, to register his shock and then his fear at the captain’s approach. There was also a weary look in his eyes, a grim kind of acceptance, Damien surely knowing he was a dead man. 

"Captain, she's lying!" Damien exclaimed as Hook drew near. "I didn't..." 

"Didn't what?" Hook asked, his fist already smashing into the blonde pirate's cheek. "I haven't accuse you of anything just yet!" 

Damien took a staggered step back, his right hand flying to his cheek. Feeling it, and his jaw, testing to make sure it hadn't been broken. "But..." 

"But what?" Hook demanded with a sneer. "Your quick denials only proclaim your guilt. You did try to kill Emma, not once but twice! It hadn't been an accident that you stupidly left her in a room with no blankets or warmth. Just as it hadn't been an accident that it took you so long in your attempt to pull her to safety." 

"You and the girl are both imagining things!" Damien protested, as the crew surrounded them, silent witnesses to what was being said. "And you saw how she fought me! How difficult she made it for me to pull her up." 

"Funny, the captain didn't have half the difficulties that you had in that." Mason muttered, and Damien shot him an annoyed and dirty look. 

"It's the truth!" Damien insisted. "She fought me not only at the rail, but every step of the way into the hold. The brat wouldn't stop, not even after I struck her repeatedly." 

"You HIT her?" Hook asked in a deceptively calm voice. Damien lost what little was left of his color, nodding slowly. 

"Only to try and get her under control." Desperate, he bit out another remark. "It's no less than any of you would have done, to her, or to anyone else acting up like that in an emergency such as that storm!" 

The crew was divided by his words, half of them murmuring agreement with Damien, while the other half couldn't abide the thought of hurting a child for any reason. Damien seemed to draw strength from the half that had agreed with him, trying once more. "As for the other, the girl is mistaken. Why would I wish her dead?" 

"Why would she wish to lie?" countered Hook, and other voices murmured their support. 

"She's a good girl, that Emma." One said. 

"She wouldn't just make up stories that would get a man killed." Another added. 

"Are you so sure about that?" asked another. "Rauol..." 

"The gypsy had it coming. You heard what he had said, the intentions he had voiced. He didn't just mutiny against the captain, he lusted for the child." 

"He lusted for the woman that she could be." Another was quick to correct. "That she still could be...." 

"It's been too long since any of us have had a woman." Came a wistful sigh. 

"She'd die soon after." Another reminded them. "Pan would make sure of it." 

"Enough!" Hook snarled over the arguing voices, the men torn over whether they wanted Emma to grow up or not. Some agreed it would be a waste, that Emma would die too quick and too soon for them to dare risk it, while another vocal minority was greedy, thinking a taste of a woman was better than none at all. 

"Hook would never allow it." Mason was quick to remind them. "You all saw what he did to Rauol." 

That got the voices to quiet down, few if any wanting to dare risk the same fate befalling them. Hook fought a grim smile, knowing he had scared them, that the sight of Rauol's mangled and mutilated corpse had stood as testament to just how vicious and brutal the pirates' captain could be. 

Rauol wasn't the only one about to experience that brand of brutality, Hook advancing on Damien. The blonde pirate began to back up, but the wall of men around him limited his escape. He tried drawing his sword, but hands grabbed at him, holding him still for the captain's hook. 

"That girl and the effect she has on our captain is going to be the death of us all!" Damien screamed in desperation. "Act now before it's too late, before he and she brings ruin to us all!" 

He was trying to incite a riot, and it was having an effect, a ripple going through the crowd of men. Hook heard the sound of steel being drawn, saw Damien being let go. 

"You can't be serious." Hook said in angry disbelief. "You don't really believe Emma is going to be the death of us all?" 

"No." admitted one pirate. "But we could be using with some comfort. The kind of comfort we won't be getting so long as you stand in the way." 

"You're a fool, Jon." Another said. "Captain Hook's been good to us. We've never been richer." 

"What good is riches if there's nowhere to spend it?" another demanded. 

"Killing Hook won't get us home any sooner." Mason's voice reminded them. "And I haven't heard anyone offering up a better idea on how to accomplish that!" 

"I say we worry about it later." Suggested another pirate. "Once Hook is dead, and the girl is ours, Pan may cut a deal." 

"MAY." Mason stressed. "But there's just as good a chance Pan will kill us for the harm we do to his girl." 

That got more than half the crew to reconsider their mutiny, the fear of Peter Pan causing many to side with Hook. There was still about ten men who were spoiling for Hook's blood, all pirates from the crew of one of the ships that had been abandoned. They didn't know, hadn't witnessed first hand what Hook had done to Rauol. They might have heard the whispers, but they didn't believe, too desperate or too stupid, and wanting to fight. A fight that they got, a forty men brawl breaking out among the pirates. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued Of Course!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a few things delayed this chapter. One for Sunday I got really bad insomnia, and when I'm like that I am in no condition to write. Or write anything worthy of reading. It would have been bad! I spent a fair chunk of Monday sleeping, my body demanding I make up for all that insomnia. I also uh...did something that had a bad effect on the story. I shouldn't have read something smutty...it totally killed my inspiration to work on the fic on Monday, cause then I was in smut mode and wanted to write something smutty so bad! 
> 
> Thankfully I got over the smut mood by late Tuesday evening. (I started writing around 9:30 pm once free of the smut mood) Cause this fic is nowhere near ready to have actual smut in it. Overall I am happy with this chapter. Even if I didn't get to the moment I have been trying to get to, the moment I originally thought I would try to end NINETEEN with. Hopefully I can get that damn moment in for chapter 21! 
> 
> 2/17/2018...an important revision and some minor ones too made.
> 
> \----------Michelle


	21. Twenty One

At the sound of multiple swords being drawn, Emma's heart beat increased in tempo. Close to furious, and pounding so hard with such fright, Emma thought for a second she might just die. Her hands lifted, fingers clutching at the front of the nightshirt, Emma sure she could feel the furious beat of her heart against her skin. 

Time and people seemed to slow all around her, Emma watching the fighting with a detached sense of astonishment. "I caused all this." She muttered to herself, Emma's face pale and drawn, with no hint of the smiles she had given Hook just minutes earlier. Instead she wore a kind of slack jawed shock, her green eyes bright with fright, Emma trying to go up on tip toe, trying to find Hook amidst the crowd of men fighting. 

It did her no good, Hook lost to the crowd, somewhere in the very center of it, fighting for his life, for his ship and the right to command it's crew. But most of all he was fighting for Emma, ready to protect her, ready to be the champion--the HERO Emma knew him to be. She was overcome with emotion, the feelings making her sway unsteadily on her feet. Emma actually welcomed the touch of Smee's hands on her arms, for their steadying support, and for the fact that the man was guiding her away from the fighting. 

Eyes still on the crowd, remembering the words that had been spoken, Emma let Smee pull her into Captain Hook's private cabin. The man was shaking with a fear that Emma shared, Smee ashen faced, and fumbling with the door. She got one last look at the brawl, cried out and flinched at the sight of a bloody limb flying, and then Smee had locked the door. 

Letting out one shaky breath after another, a panting Smee turned to face Emma. Their eyes met, a wordless communication, Emma nodding her head. Smee actually ran to the weapon's cabinet, his trembling fingers pulling a key ring out of his pant's pocket. He had to try several times before he found the key to unlock the cabinet, and then the lethal cache was open, Smee arming himself with what looked like a battle axe. 

"I'm not much of a fighter." Smee sounded apologetic. "I wouldn't last ten seconds against someone with a sword. But this?" He tested the heft of the axe, his arms still shaking. "This I might stand a chance with." 

He let Emma arm herself with a sword, the girl beyond shocked by the trust in that allowance. She looked down at the silver metal, saw the worry in her eyes in it's reflection. Smee had already moved past her, going to stand near but not TOO close to the door. 

"Is this really necessary?" Emma asked, wanting assurance, needing to believe Smee had exaggerated the danger. 

"I'm not taking any chances." Smee told her. "The captain himself will have my head, if I let anything happen to you!" 

Emma didn't ask what Smee thought could happen, the girl having overheard plenty of what the pirates had been saying before the fight had broke out in earnest. Some of them wanted her, with a need so lustful, it drove all sanity and reason from their minds. They had spoken nonsense, things that couldn't possible make sense. Talking about how the experience would not be one Emma could survive, talking as though it was a risk some of them were willing to take. Most nonsensical of it all was their talk of Peter Pan, Emma not at all understanding why they thought the boy would hurt her for the pirates' crimes. 

Confused and worried as she was, Emma still felt several senses of wonder. There was Peter, and the fear the pirates felt at the mere mention of him. Enough fear to back off more than half from the perverted desires that had been driving them, the terror and caution Peter inspired amazing, Emma thinking how glad, how proud the boy would be to hear of it. 

Emma hoped that she would live to tell Peter all about it. That she would get the chance to share with him and their brothers, the adventure that she had had. But as much as she wanted that, there was another wish in her heart. A hope just as strong, Emma wanting, needing Hook to survive. To do more than just survive, Emma needing his strong reassurance and smiles. 

Her eyes began burning with the sensation of tears, Emma trying not to let the fear make her panic so completely. She stared down at the sword, saw the tear hit it, and then she was growling, enraged by her helplessness, by the situation, by the fact Hook had yet to walk though the door. That angry fit of energy made her arms shake, Emma gripping the sword's hilt with both hands. She began practicing her swing, the sword's metal just a little heavier than the ones Emma was used too. 

Smee said nothing as she practiced, his focus not on her, but the door. Emma began practicing her sword drills, giving little twirls, and jabbing at an imaginary opponent. The girl felt a little dizzy as she did this, Emma forcing herself to stop. To lean against the wall, and just go still, not speaking, not moving, just waiting. 

The roar of the battle outside the cabin was dull but still there. How many had died? How many still fought? She didn't know, and Emma didn't particularly care in the moment, her only concern for herself, for Hook and for Smee. Emma didn't know how long she had stood there leaning against the wall, or how long Smee had stood there, the axe in his hands, his focus on the door. It could have been hours, or it could have been minutes, her sense of time nonexistent, and then the door was rattling, someone trying to force it open. 

"Get ready!" Smee said, breaking the silence. His arm lifted, the axe held at the ready. He was just out of reach of the door, waiting to see who would come in, giving them one and only one chance to be Hook. Emma wondered if the old pirate had the strength needed to wield a killing blow, if he could possibly fend off more than one attacker. She never got the chance to find out, Emma shrieking, the door being KICKED open, sunlight spilling into the room. 

Both her sword and Smee's axe fell to the floor with a noisy clatter, the pair crying out in shared relief. Pushing away from the wall, running across the room, Emma threw her arms around Hook without thinking. She pressed her trembling body against his, felt not only his surprise, but the wet feel of his clothing. Her nose wrinkled with the realization that Hook was covered in blood, and thick gobs of something else that Emma didn't want to try and guess at. 

"It's not mine." Hook said, a savage grin on his face. "Well..." A sheepish pause. "MOST of it is not mine." 

"Captain!" Smee was approaching, Emma's back to him so that she could not see his face. But she heard the disapproval in his tone, the chiding reproach, the older pirate quick to chastise and berate the captain for the fright that Hook had given them. 

He also wasn't as quick to convince that Hook was not hurt. He insisted on examining Hook, a feat that could only be accomplished with Emma's reluctant parting. Smee bustled Hook towards the bathroom, while ordering Emma to change the now soiled nightshirt with one of Hook's other shirts. 

The black fabric that she picked was a cool silk against her skin, Emma attracted to the silky smooth feel of it. The hem of it fell well past her knees, and the sleeves had to be rolled up to keep out of her way. She noticed how the fabric shifted with her body's movements, sending a sensation over her skin that was not wholly unpleasant. 

Smiling, she turned the collar up so that she could smell better Hook's scent on the fabric. She was still standing there breathing, when Smee cautiously poked his head out of the bathroom. "Is he all right?" Emma asked without turning. 

"He's a bit scratched up, but nothing as bad as what had happened the last time." Smee said, and entered into the room. He had no audible comment for what Emma was wearing, merely making a tsking sound as he headed for Hook's closest. Fresh clothing was dug out, Smee's arms burdened with them. 

"I'm just going to give these to him, and then we'll see about getting you settled." 

"Settled?" Emma echoed, and Smee nodded. 

"It's too much excitement too soon, for a girl that's been as sick as you. You need your rest, now more than ever." 

"But I am not tired!" Emma protested. But she was aware of feeling dizzy, a fact that had her swaying in place. 

Smee's response was to shake his head, making a stern frown of his features. "Tired or not, you need your rest. As well as something filling." Smee tsked again. "You've practically all skin and bones now, it's a wonder you haven't withered away from hunger yet." 

"Well now that you mention it..." Emma began, but Smee was already past the bathroom's closed door. She sighed, and looked down at herself, wondering if she was really as thin as Smee had complained about. She began pulling at the collar of her shirt, trying to peer inside it, and down at her body. There wasn't a real difference that she could notice, and nothing about her had changed. She was still the same girl that she had always been, with the same scars and tanned skin. She frowned at one scar in particular, the ugly burn shape of a cigar's burn having left a permanent mark on her skin. Emma wondered if Hook had noticed it, if he had found it as ugly as she did. 

Glaring now at her own body, Emma nearly fell over with haste when the bathroom door opened again. She quickly stopped pulling at the shirt, turning to look instead at Hook. His dark hair still wet, the man was fresh from a quick shower. He wasn't as dressed up as she had grown used to seeing, Hook having forgone the vest and the overcoat, to wear just a loose fitting shirt tucked into a pair of tight leather pants. 

The most startling visual was his face, Emma seeing he had shaved it clean. Without even a shadow of scruff to be found, Hook now had a youthful look to his appearance. Emma found herself wondering just how old he really was, that of his physical appearance's age as well as that of his Neverland age. 

"What?" Hook asked, having caught her staring. Emma flushed, but didn't look away, merely shrugging her shoulders as her response. And then Smee was talking, his manner and tone brusque, the old pirate clapping his hands together. 

"Yes, yes, I know. The captain cleans up real pretty. No need to be gawking like that over a known fact." 

"Smee!" 

"Don't worry yourself, Captain. You just get some rest. I'll put her to bed, and get the room set to right. Mason and I will take turns standing guard until the door you broke can be fixed." Smee continued in that stern manner, badgering both Hook and Emma to bed. Or rather, Emma got the bed, and Hook got one of the cushioned chairs, the man propping his feet up on a stool. 

Emma sat bemusedly in the center of Hook's bed, watching Smee hurry about the room. The battle axe and the sword were collected, and return to the weapon's cabinet. It was locked right after, Smee already muttering to himself about the night's dinner menu. 

Hook let out the deepest sigh of relief once Smee was gone, the pirate captain standing. Emma watched as Hook walked over to the table, and grabbed nearly full bottle of a dark drink she thought might be his favored rum. He took a long swallow straight from the bottle, sighing in contentment right after. 

"That's some good stuff." 

"Is it?" Emma asked, finding herself curious about the taste that Hook so seemed to enjoy. "Can I...?" 

"No. And don't ask again." Hook told her firmly, carrying himself and the bottle back to the chair. He then made himself comfortable, his legs propped up on the stool, Hook taking another long swallow. 

From the bed Emma pouted, but she was really too tired to kick up a real fuss. Her exhaustion was setting in, the sickness still there. Even Emma could tell she would need a lot more rest before she could say that she was fully recovered. 

"Hook...?" 

"Hmm?" He made a noise around his third mouthful of rum. 

"Did many, did many die today?" 

"More than a dozen." Hook answered with a dark, satisfied chuckle. "Damien included." 

"Oh." She paused to asses that, then said the following. "I am sorry so many of your..........your friends? Had to die." 

"They weren't my friends." Hook's tone was matter of fact. "They were just men who followed my orders, and badly at that." 

"But..." 

"Emma, a friend is someone you trust, someone you can count to have your back. There's very few out there aside from Smee, that I would come close to trusting, and even less I would consider my friend." 

Emma thought about this a moment, then offered up another hesitant question. "Then....then you and I? We are friends?" 

She held her breath, waiting for Hook's answer. A moment of silence, and then a sigh, Hook answering on that exhalation. "Yes, Emma, we are friends." 

"Friends..." Emma repeated with a wondering smile. She brought a hand to her chest, feeling the emotion swelling up within. Was the idea of their friendship the reason behind these feelings? Or was it something more, something Emma could not yet put her finger on. 

"You were very impressive today." Emma continued out loud. "The way you talked to Damien, the way you believed me over him, the way you didn't even doubt what I had told you." 

"You've never given me a reason to think you'd lie about such a thing." 

"Yes, but have I given you a reason to trust otherwise?" Emma wondered out loud, but got no answer. "Hook?" Another soft sound from him, the man showing he was still listening. "Your crew. They are very scared of Peter, aren't they?" She was troubled by the agreement in that hesitant sound he let out. "Why? Peter is many things, but a boy monstrous enough to scare blood thirsty hardened pirates?" 

"Hook?" She called out, but got no further answer. Emma bit at her bottom lip, then voiced the thought troubling her most of all. "Why did some of your crew...why did some of them talk as though Peter Pan would hurt me?" 

A soft rumble of sound was her only answer, Emma realizing Hook was snoring. She shifted on the big bed, trying to see, but the chair had it's back to her, Emma unable to see Hook, let alone ascertain if he was really asleep. She sighed, and told herself it was foolish worry, that Hook wouldn't be faking just to avoid answering her questions about Peter. And yet she couldn't shake the uncertainty inside her, Emma not understanding but wanting to. 

Young Emma Swan would worry herself right to sleep. A sudden thump would awaken her several hours later, Emma shooting upright in the bed. There was food in the room, Smee having left a meal on the night stand situated to the right of the bed. It had already cooled, and Emma found she was more interested in what had made the noise that had shocked her awake. 

Edging out of the bed, gaining confidence when no Smee appeared to stop her, Emma padded on bare feet to the center of the cabin. The soft rumble of sound let her know that Hook was still asleep, the bottle of rum on the floor, having at last dropped from the pirate's hand. The thick glass of the bottle hadn't shattered, but with no cork to stop it, the remains of the rum were spilling out onto the floor. Emma moved towards the bottle, setting it upright, and getting rum on her hands. 

She stared down at the amber liquid, brought her hands up to her face for a sniff. Her nose wrinkled in response to the drink's strong smell, Emma touching fingertips to her tongue, and getting her first real taste of rum. She made a face immediately, not sure how Hook could tolerate even one sip of this drink, let alone the big swallows he had gulped down earlier. 

"Maybe it tastes better the more you drink it." She muttered, trying to reason it out. But Emma didn't try for another taste, instead turning to Hook. He was slouched over to one side, and had to be uncomfortable sleeping like that. And yet he hadn't voiced a single complaint, hadn't tried to take the bed back, or suggest that he share it with her. 

Touched by both his generosity and his well mannered behavior, Emma crept closer to the chair. He didn't stir, didn't so much as shift, Hook continuing to sleep. Emma placed her hands on the arm rest of the chair, her fingers so close to Hook's arm that she was almost touching him. And then she WAS touching him, Emma feeling up the arm, feeling the muscles hidden under the sleeve. Powerful came to mind, Emma not only thinking he was strong, but that Hook was sublime. Her champion made real, and it was awe inspiring to think this beautifully handsome man cared enough to fight for HER. 

Admiration in her eyes, Emma looked up. This close Hook made her sigh, his beauty literally breathtaking. He was surreal, an odd sort of handsome, almost too pretty to be possible. He was in fact the most magnificent man young Emma Swan had ever seen, putting to shame even the elves' ethereal beauty. 

Her eyes focused on him, Emma enjoyed the visual treat that he was. Taken with his looks, his manners, his behavior, Emma was a mix of adoration and admiring, the girl absentmindedly petting fingers over his sleeve covered arm. She could feel his warmth through the light fabric, Emma petting down to his hand. Taking it with hers, Emma taking note of the work rough skin, the calloused fingers tips, and how her hand looked dwarfed next to his.

 

To the left of him was no hand but that hook, the silver metal polished and cleaned. It had been soaked with blood, and something darker, thicker, yet more proof that Hook had fought, KILLED to protect her. Emma carefully reached out to that deadly aspect of him, running one lone fingertip over the curve of it. It was cold to the touch, Emma feeling a shiver of sensation go through her. It was so different from what she had known, what she still touched, Emma wondering just how Hook had lost his hand, and a million other questions began to surface in her mind. 

Still caressing the hook, Emma leaned forward, her eyes intent on the patch of skin she could see. He had missed a button, and Emma wondered at how hard it must be for Hook to dress himself. Her face heated with her flush, Emma shaking her head, trying to forget any thoughts of Hook and his dressing, and especially how his bare chest had looked the other day. 

Fighting the memories, the reactions that they caused in her, Emma inhaled deeply, catching hold of Hook's all too pleasing scent. It was mixed with the rum, the drink stuck to him as though it had become a part of his skin. She wasn't sure she liked him smelling like rum, Emma pressing closer, trying to smell past the rum, to find that clean and unique scent that was wholly Hook's own. She pressed her face against his neck, the murmured response he voiced making Emma freeze. 

Her heart like the frantic beat of wings, Emma stayed there frozen, waiting for Hook's reaction, waiting for him to yell and push her away. He only settled with a sigh, shifting against her, Emma aware of his warmth, and his breath stirring her hair. Risking a cautious look up, Emma was reassured to see that Hook was still asleep. Her heart calmed the worst of it's panicked beat, relief pumping it's way through her. She made a move, a slight shifting attempt to leave, and the scent that she found so appealing rose, Emma dizzy, high off it, off him and then she was falling, catching at the chair, keeping herself from sprawling on top of Hook's lap. 

Turning red with embarrassment, Emma couldn't believe Hook had slept through it all. The smell of rum rose in her nose, Emma's memories stirring, reminding her of drunken foster parents and how deeply some of them had slept when caught in the grip of their drink. But it was too painful a memory to dwell on, Emma not wanting to associate anything of Hook to that of those people of her past. She frowned, then blinked owlishly, focusing on his looks. Telling herself the things he had done, the way he had behaved. She was in fact reassuring herself, determined to believe Hook was wholly unique, a person most rare, an adult to be trusted, cherished, even be friends with. 

Convinced that Hook WAS special, Emma tentatively lifted a hand to his cheek. The stubble was already there, enough time having passed that his face had lost it's clean shaven look. The shadow of that scruff was an odd sensation against her fingers, Emma not sure if she completely liked the feel of those bristles against her delicate skin. His lips however, she smiled at, brushing a thumb over one, and finding it softer than she had dared dreamed. Emma kept on caressing his lips, tracing carefully the path at the corners, touching the smile that he had flashed at her often. 

Her smile curving more, Emma stared at his lips, and felt the first curious stirring of longing. She didn't completely understand it, didn't recognize the desire that she was feeling. Emma had never been interested in kissing, finding it and the acts it led to disgusting. But then she had never found anyone she had wanted to kiss, no man, woman or child, not even Peter or that of any of her brothers. 

These feelings were so foreign to her, a longing so intense that it hurt to go unfulfilled, Emma took in a breath and held it. And then she held HIM, her hands cupping each stubbled cheek, as she leaned in to press her own lips gently, chastely against his. 

Emotion exploded within her, Emma reveling in the feel of her first kiss. It was thrilling, it was exhilarating, and suddenly Emma thought she might have a better sense of why people did this. To feel each other's warmth, to experience these feelings, to get and feel close to another human being. It was in fact perfect and would have remained that way, if Hook hadn't opened his mouth just then. Startled by the hot response of his lips, Emma could only gasp in surprise. His tongue touched hers, and then they were both recoiling, Emma making a sound, Hook snarling in reply, actually pushing her off him. 

She ended up on her knees on the floor, Emma shaking. Her hand had a mind of it's own, brushing trembling fingertips over her own lips. She could feel Hook there, the lingering warmth of him, and the rum coated taste of him. She shook and shivered anew, not daring to look at him, not daring to not, Emma blushing full on with the realization that she wanted more. 

Hook had sprang up from his seat, almost falling backwards over it in his haste to get away. She didn't understand his reaction, his clear cut panic, Emma frowning as she risked a look his way. He was touching his lips too, his hand shaking as badly as hers was. 

"What..." Hook was actually near speechless, stuck stammering the same word over and over again. Emma wasn't sure what was going on, but she didn't like his overreaction. She dropped her hand, and rose up to her feet, staring at Hook all the while. He stared back at her, still fingering his lips, and then his eyes flashed with an anger that had never before been directed at Emma. 

The girl found herself shrinking in place, but she refused to cower. She stubbornly lifted her chin, gave him a haughty get over it look, and crossed her arms over her chest. He narrowed his gaze in response, dropped his hand and began to advance on her. She refused to be bullied, Emma standing her ground, until Hook was right here before her, glaring and towering over her, looking as though he wanted to reach out and throttle her! 

"Little girls..." Hook began in a growling, gravelly tone. "Should not be kissing grown men." 

Emma's gazed narrowed, the girl beyond insulted by his words. "I am NOT a little girl! I'm over fourteen!" 

Hook flinched as though her words had physically struck him, his expression trying for patience. "Fourteen is still years too young to even think about what you were doing!" 

"Fourteen is plenty grown!" Emma insisted, her stubborn streak manifesting. "I've known girls who have done a lot more than that, and who were younger than me!" 

Again he flinched, Emma reaching out to him, and suddenly he was grabbing her, roughly pushing her down onto the cushions of the chair. Her startled heart nearly burst, Emma shrieking in surprise. The intent focus of his stare, it made Emma react, her stomach flip flopping as fear filled her green colored eyes. Hook stared at her, and then nodded in grim satisfaction. 

"Not grown enough." He gritted out as though that was final. He eased away from her, watching Emma like she was some exotic but wild creature. Emma felt her lower lip tremble, her eyes welling with tears, the pouting upon her, and she didn't understand and Hook wasn't trying to explain any further. He just stared at her a moment longer, and then with a muffled curse, walked out of the room. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down. It's nine thirty six am as I type this. I haven't been to bed yet. I'm gonna try to sleep soon, probably save the proofreading and spellcheck for later. I knew for a long time Emma was the one who was gonna try to kiss Hook. Hope this scene didn't make people freak out TOO badly. It was an important moment, not just for her feelings, but because of what Hook said to her. The whole she's years too young to be even thinking of kissing him. That's a major clue/theme I am pointing out to you guys! 
> 
> Also my first attempt at the kiss scene was horrible! It STUNK and felt like I rushed to her trying the kiss, and was just so awful. I stopped at six in the morning, and played an hour of Tales of Graces F. I THOUGHT I was gonna lay down, and come back with a fresh mind, but an interruption happened, and I went back to reread the whole chapter. Was fine with everything but the damn kiss scene, so I trashed my first attempt, and am super satisfied (if nervous) about my second attempt at this moment. 
> 
> You know, I am sure I had more to say...but right now I am blanking out on anything I need to write about in the author's note section. If its important enough, maybe I'll remember and mention it in 22's note. 
> 
> I feel good that I wrote two chapters in a twelve hour period! Yay! 
> 
> 2/17/2018 tweaked the writing a bit.
> 
> \-----Michelle


	22. Twenty Two

His lips burnt with the taste of a young girl's innocence, actually tingled with the lasting impression that had been made by her trembling mouth. She had tasted like sunshine, all sweet and full of gentle yearnings. Like hope made real, and Hook hadn't woken up quick enough to stop Emma or HIMSELF. In his dreaming disorientation Hook had responded, for one single instant his mouth hot and eager. Ruining the kiss, and ruining HER, his tongue touching Emma's and only the shocked recoil of her response had startled Hook awake completely. 

His knee jerk response had happened in a flash, Hook moving on automatic. Emma had ended up on the floor, her own small body trembling. She hadn't looked at all sorry, regret and apologies clearly the furthest thought from her mind. Instead Emma had worn a look of wonder, those trembling fingers of hers doing a shaky, repeating caress over the lips that had touched his. 

His own hand shaking, Hook's arm had abruptly dropped with the realization that he had been mirroring her trembling actions. But HIS expression hadn't been one of wonder, the fear and the fury alight in his eyes, the kiss that Emma had stolen, hardly one to savor and celebrate. Hook couldn't marvel at how much her guard had been let down, at how much she had changed, going from the scared but brave girl of one week ago, to this bold creature before him. This bold, unrepentant child, and there was more than just wonder in her eyes, there was a kind of defiant pride, Emma haughty as she had stared Hook down. 

The anger already there, it had flared stronger, it's focus narrowing in on Emma. There was the first flicker of uncertainty in response, the girl then sparking just as angry as Hook. Those stubborn protests, Emma insisting she was old enough, that she had known girls YOUNGER who had done more? It had sent Hook reeling, a rage like nothing he had ever known fueling him, the pirate having grabbed at Emma, and having shoved her down. 

The shriek that had followed had hurt his ears, Emma unsettled enough to show fear. He had let his looming presence fuel it, Hook watching the clash of indecision in her eyes, the green alive with an adult's awareness and the fleeting struggle of a child's remaining innocence. The imbalance that was there, Hook was amazed by it. Outright stunned by the fact that Emma hadn't already fallen. That she hadn't already gone careening into adulthood, pushed by Hook's own hand. 

That same hand couldn't catch Emma fast enough now, couldn't stop what was going to happen. The damage had been done, and no amount of Hook's own regret could change that, time having begun it's count down in this room. Time's one uncertainty? Just how fast it was moving, and then Hook was all but running. 

His undignified gait, had him barrel into Mason, the tattooed pirate crying out in surprise. Hook fixed him with a bleak look, his own guilt and self blame haunting his features. Anything Mason could have said was lost to the dawning understanding in the tattoo covered man's eyes, the pirate taking a step back but not before he tried to look into the cabin. 

Hook reacted on pure angry instinct, reaching out to grab hold of Mason. He threw the pirate away from the yet to be repaired door, towered threatening over the man where he had landed on the deck's floor. Hook felt the quiet hush fall over the deck, what few men out and about, ceasing their conversation to instead openly stare. 

Aware of the interest, and what was at stake, Hook fought to retain a shred of calm rationality. His own face ashen, Hook held out his hand to Mason, his one and only attempt at an apology. The tattooed Mason cautiously reached out to take it, his trust not yet shattered, both men breathing a sigh of relief once the man was upright. 

Carefully avoiding so much as looking at the door, Mason said just one word, a single spoken utterance that conveyed much in the asking. "Did....?" 

"Not yet." Hook answered, then shook with his laugh, a bitter broken sound of such pain that Mason flinched and looked away. Hook didn't try to maintain the conversation, didn't try to linger and endure Mason's awkward sympathies. Hook instead walked to the furthest part of the deck, his pace no less sedate than before, his guilt and his demons hounding him, and there wasn't going to be enough distance, the ship at it's limits as Hook reached it's rail. 

His fingers curved around that smooth wood, Hook staring out at the horizon. At the main land in the far distance, and then his grip was growing tight, his knuckles bleeding out of their color, the helpless rage upon him worsening it's power. His left arm raised, the hook glinting with starlight. Wood chips began to fly, the pirate pounding his hook into the rail, over and over, awkward sized chunks being carved out of it, and he wasn't stopping, didn't care enough to try. 

"Captain!" It was Smee's exclamation, the older man grabbing at Hook's arm. He was nearly dragged forward by Hook's strength, the pirate captain turning his furious glare on an ashen faced Smee. 

"Leave me!" Hook snarled, and shoved back at Smee. The older pirate let out a startled sound, his stumble backwards crashing him into an upright barrel. The shocked look on Smee's face got through to Hook on some level, the captain stepping towards him. Smee couldn't stop his startled reaction, scrambling over the knocked over barrel, a wary kind of unease in his dark eyes. 

Hook abruptly stopped, realizing that he had gone too far. And then he was laughing that broken pained sound, Hook understanding he had been going too far for too long and too often, crime after crime committed, the pirate sinning countless times against Emma. From that first day, from the moment he had looked into her eyes and been dazzled, Hook plotting and scheming, and intending to use Emma just as thoroughly as Rauol. It didn't matter that the nature of his goals had been different, Hook was just as filthy and corrupt as any other man aboard this ship. Taking Emma with the intent to use her as the opportunity he had demeaned her into being, Hook ready to trade her away, to make her into a bargaining chip to get what he had wanted from Pan. 

The man was sicken by what he had done, with the idea Hook had entertained for even one second. The ends he had just come to realize, didn't justify the means, and Emma's life wasn't meant to be sacrificed any more than any of the other children lost to Pan's spells. No longer able to rationalize it, to make excuses, Hook realized it didn't matter that Pan seemed unbeatable. There HAD to be a way, and even if Hook died for his efforts, what mattered was that he had tried. 

"Captain?" A cautious sound from Smee, the man torn between keeping his distance, and the concern Hook was rousing inside him. 

Hook fixed Smee with a grim smile, strengthened by that new determination, by the fact that he was finally going to do something worthy of being called Emma's hero. And maybe he couldn't save everyone, but if there was even one life, even the chance of it, it was worth trying, Hook knowing there was no way he was going to hand Emma over. Not to Pan, not to his own selfishness, Hook determined to save her or die trying. 

His revenge no longer important, Hook's mind was already working. Trying to figure out the possibilities, trying to see if there was any chance that this could work. 

"Smee, get the men who can be trusted ready. We're going to make the Jolly Roger fly." 

Smee's eyes widened in response to that, his jaw dropping open in shock. "We're..." He quieted his tone at Hook's frantic hiss. "We're going to leave Neverland?" His voice was a hushed whisper, Smee frankly astonished. "But what about...what about the Dark One?" 

"If we--if I let Pan continue as he has, then it makes me no better than either of those monsters!" Hook was passionate in his reply, a nice contrast to Smee's calm and cautious restraint. 

"There's no way to know if this will work." Smee warned. "No way to know if we have enough pixie dust left to outrun even Pan." 

"But YOU'VE got to try." An adamant Hook insisted. "Her future, her very life is at stake here!" 

"Captain...." And then Hook's words truly registered, Smee startled by the realization that his captain wasn't intending to come along for the ride. "Wait, you can't...you can't possibly mean to stay behind?!" 

"I HAVE to, Smee." Hook explained. "Or it will be all for not. I'll still be as selfish and self serving as all the rest of them, saving Emma but leaving Neverland and the children at Pan's mercy." 

"You're only one man!" Smee was bundle of agiation. "How do you hope to even..." 

"I don't know." Hook admitted. "Pan seems unstoppable. Hell, Rumplestiltskin once did too. But maybe just maybe there is a weakness, some magic I can use, something I can exploit to gain the advantage." 

"There's an awful lot of maybe in this decision." Smee was quick to point out. "Maybe you can find a weakness, maybe you can save Neverland, maybe there's enough pixie dust left to get Emma to safety. But captain, it's not just Pan you're working against, but time itself. It'll take time to find where the pixies have moved their hollow too, time to gather enough dust, time to...." 

"Wait, you need to gather MORE?!" Hook frowned with that question, hoping against hope that he had heard Smee wrong. His heart plummeted at the apologetic look Smee now gave him, the old man nervously explaining that during the storm's flooding, some of the water had gotten into many of the barrels of the pixie dust that had taken the pirates years to have gathered. 

"No...." His voice an anguished mutter, Hook shook his head in protest. 'No, it can't be! To be so close to saving her, only to...only to fail?" He slumped in place, his shoulders, his whole demeanor sagging. Again Smee gave him that apologetic look, his kind eyes shining with their expressed sympathy. 

"Most of it has been ruined..." 

"Most but not ALL of it?" But the hope wasn't quick to catch fire a second time. "Then quickly Smee! Go and take tally of how much you think there is, and if it's enough, if not for the Jolly Roger, than for one of the long boats at least!" 

"If we do this..." Smee searched Hook's expression for a glimmer of understanding. "You do know you are most likely going to die? If not by Pan's hands, then by the crew men themselves....They won't be happy about what you've done, about this change in your purpose, or the fact that you spent the last of our pixie dust to ferret a select few and Emma to safety." 

"But I'll go down swinging." Hook retorted with a grim smile. Smee continued to stare, giving a rueful shake of his head. 

"I'd say you've gone mad with grief, but there's a sparkle in your eyes that wasn't there before, not even at your most tortured over Milah's unfortunate passing." 

"A sparkle." Hook repeated, wondering if it was true. Wondering if it was hope, or something more, the irony not lost on Hook that he was finally ready to live just as he was preparing for a series of fights that would most likely end with his death. 

"Get Mason, and one other you think can be trusted. I'll be wanting you to leave before first light dawns." 

"That soon?!" Smee's alarm was apparent. "But captain I...I'm not ready...and I don't think you are either." 

"This is as ready as we're going to get." Hook grimly pointed out. "Time itself is now working against us, and every second wasted is a second that brings Emma closer to death." 

His acceptance was reluctant, Smee nodding and starting to turn away. "Captain..." He asked after a moment's pause. "What are you going to tell the girl?" 

"I don't know." Hook admitted. "Probably nothing." 

"Nothing?!" 

"It's not like she'd believe me." Hook sighed. "Not when that demon has got her believing his lies." 

"Then you're not even going to say goodbye?" Smee asked with a disbelief that had deepened, the older man's face wrinkling with his upset. "It's not right, and it's not fair, and I am going to do my best to make the young miss know that you died as a hero." 

"I'm not dead just yet." Hook reminded him, but his tone was dry, the pirate knowing the odds didn't come close to favoring him. 

"Captain, I...of course." Smee shook his head one time, then hurried off to do as Hook had asked. Hook watched him disappear below deck, then turned to face the railing once more. His hand touched the damaged wood, Hook whispering an apology for the hurt he had caused even the ship. But most of all he was sorry to Emma, for all he had done, for all he had even considered once doing. For what he was still doing, Hook finding he was too much of a coward to face her, unable to say goodbye, unable to go with her, unable to even prepare her for the change in life she was about to be ushered into. But at least she'd have Smee, the old pirate just about the only one Hook could feel comfortable with entrusting Emma's future too. Smee would see her settled, would protect her, would teach her not only how to survive but how to thrive in the Enchanted Realm. 

Hook could only wish he could be there to see it. To do more than just see it, but to be there with Emma, at her side and as the hero she had believed Hook could be. The regrets were still there, but they were different now, Hook having hope and knowing he was doing the best possible thing so that Emma could now have a chance. 

The same couldn't be said for him, what with a demon that would be out for his blood, and having to answer to a crew who was murder minded on the best of days. Hook wondered how much time he had left, wondered how long he could keep the farce going, before someone thought to question Smee, Mason and one other's prolong absence from the Jolly Roger. Not looking forward to the answer, not wanting to think about the reckoning he would face at his crew's hands, Hook stared out at the mainland, at the towering giants that passed for trees. This late and this dark, the canopy of the forest was impossible to distinguish from the night sky, It would be worst inside the forest, the dark woods a living maze that worked hard at repelling intruders. Hook and his pirates knew only a handful of established paths, not a single one leading them in deep enough to find Pan, to find his lair and the children that he kept in his thrall. 

Suspecting one needed to fly to be able to come close to finding it, Hook knew that to go into the dark forest alone would be just as suicidal as anything else he had ever contemplated. There just didn't seem a way, didn't seem a chance of surviving, no matter what he chose to do. But Hook never once lost his determination, never once faltered in his decision to do right. Not even when Smee approached him, the man speaking quietly, telling Hook that yes there seemed to be just enough pixie dust left to gift one of the long boats with flight. 

Not turning from the sight of the mainland, Hook nodded gruffly. Smee hesitated besides him, but the words never came, the man not questioning Hook any further. Smee had not only acknowledged Hook's decision, but had come to a reluctant acceptance of it. He wasn't happy one bit, that much was clear, but Smee was loyal, some would say to a fault. He sighed, that unhappy sound conveying a lot, Smee starting to turn away at the exact instant Hook spied it. 

"Captain?" A worried Smee asked, having seen how Hook had suddenly gripped the railing, how the captain now leaned forward, staring up at the sky. Was it a trick of the light, or was it something more, a fleeting shadow racing across the surface of the moon? Just as as the man thought he had imagined it, Hook saw it again, and then again, more and more shadows trailing after the first. Never taking his eyes off the sky, Hook spoke an urgent cry, the alarm bell starting to clang, the watch man in the crow's nest having at last spied what the captain had. 

The bell ringing, the deck shaking with the thunderous sound of the off duty pirates rushing up the stairs. They hadn't known what to expect, another storm or another mutiny, the pirates spreading out topside, the murmured hush of their voices rising with their alarm. And following that sound was another, Hook hearing the scraping of metal, the pirates freeing their swords from their scabbards. 

"Get those cannons ready to fire!" Mason was screaming, but without a visible opponent, the pirates would just be wasting valuable ammo. 

The glow of the deck's lanterns didn't extend far enough to light much of the sky. Hook had his own blade in hand, readying himself and knowing that time had just run out. That he had had his realization a day too late to do Emma any real good. She wasn't going to get away, and Hook wasn't going to die a hero. 

As if hearing Hook's thoughts, the laughter started. Low, taunting, and then they were there, the demon and his boys descending down from the sky. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter I know. It was a pain to write too. This is actually my third attempt. My first two attempts SUCKED. I was very frustrated. X_X But I am mostly happy with the end result of three. And big news! I came up with a title for this fic in the process of writing this chapter! 
> 
> See, in the middle of my first draft, I started thinking Broken Paradise as a title. Well that became Shattered Paradise, then shattered innocence, until finally, in my own rambling way, I hit upon the name I thought might do a good job of fitting the story. The shattered dream of innocence. Hurrah!
> 
> 2/17/2018 updated a bit…. 
> 
> \--------Michelle


	23. Twenty Three

Her tears wouldn't stop, Emma sniffling, sobbing and most of all angry. With Hook and with herself, with the feelings swirling inside her, and the confusing, jarring reactions Emma had had. That she still had, her hands angrily brushing at her face, those rough actions a jarring contrast to what she had really wanted to do. But the memory of the kiss, or more precisely, the memory of Hook's reaction to it, had kept Emma's fingers far from her lips, the girl unable to bear it. Both his overreaction and the rejection Emma had read in it, the girl crying harder, shattered, her whole would uprooted. Turned upside down by the pirate and the way he had challenged her every preconceived notion. 

Not at all like the people she had known, the adults both male and female who had hurt and terrorized Emma, Hook was in a class all his own. His every act had made a lasting impression, Hook a wholly unique marvel right down to the fact that the pirate had pushed her away rather than try for more. What he could have taken for an eager invitation Hook had been horrified by, the man actively shaking in response. Glaring at her with blue eyes that had been livid, Emma instantly knowing she had gone too far too soon. 

And yet she wouldn't change it for the world, the kiss nearly perfect. HE was nearly perfect, with soft lips a pleasant contrast to the rest of his hardness, and not even his stinging rejection could truly deter her, Emma admitting to herself it was that very kind of behavior that had made Hook such a hero. Her ideal man, Hook impressing Emma in ways that not even Peter Pan had been able to. 

Shocked by it, by him, Hook had taken Emma in ways she hadn't been prepared for. Everything from his looks to his manners, Hook an enigma that had left Emma unraveled. Her heart had been dazzled, her mind sweetly addled, and nothing, not even God himself could undo the longing taking firm root inside her. Emma's feelings, as hurt and confused as they were, had only been strengthened, Hook's every unconscious attempt fueling the infatuation. 

It and she were spiraling out of control, Emma falling, the knowledge that Hook hadn't wanted to kiss her weighing her down, but not nearly as much as it would have if the pirate had expressed a desire to do otherwise. Because even with all her pouting, all her tears and her heartache, Emma knew, KNEW, that for Hook to have kissed her back would have been the ultimate in wrongs. It didn't make his rejection any easier to stomach, and yet it was exactly that kind of behavior that set Hook apart from the others that had once been in her life. The foster families and their perverse cruelties, the so called mothers and fathers, the brothers and even the sisters to some lesser extent. Hook was like none of them, and the kiss had only proved it, Emma set on fire for him. 

Shaking, sobbing and a whole lot of determined, Emma remembered Hook's words. The concern expressed in them, Hook insisting that fourteen was still too young, that Emma was still too young. The first tinge of regret had been born in those words, Emma finding that for the first time ever she was tempted. For more than just kisses, Emma wondering what it would be like, what it would feel like, to be just a little older. Because she was now aware of the limitations of being a child, now faced with a man whose interest lie not with little girls. 

Feeling like she was on the cusp of a great decision, Emma still hesitated short of making it either way. Unable to grow, unable to stay as she had been, the girl began crying harder, confused, scared, but also morbidly curious. Wanting to know what it would be like to be grown, what she herself would be like, what Hook's reaction would be, what Peter, what her brothers would think, Emma caught between the woman that she could be, and the child that she still was. 

She was left with a newfound appreciation, Emma this much close to understanding the struggle that boys like Jacob and Evan must have gone through. She now knew why they could have been tempted, why they could have considered even for a second becoming adults. She might even understand why they had left, but Emma couldn't consider doing that same thing. It was the love that she had for her family, the immense hurt that Emma knew she would cause her brothers, that kept the girl trapped. Caught between two sets of feelings, two worlds, Emma cried harder for the fact that she couldn't have both. 

Unable to abandon either, Emma found herself wondering what she regretted most. Hook and the feelings he had caused within her, or the family that would have Emma deny that side of her. The guilt within her, nearly tore Emma apart, the girl having a bitter and better understanding of why Peter tried to keep her, keep all the lost ones, away from adults and their responsibilities. 

Bitter and weeping, Emma felt all the worst with the realization that the thought of not knowing Hook, of having never met him at all, was the most terrifying thought of all. Yes, it would have spared her a whole lot of pain, but Emma would have also missed out on the wonder, the shocking but impressing fact that there was at least one adult out there who was nice, who could be trusted. For that alone Hook had both Emma's gratitude and respect, even as the welling feelings inside her came closer to tearing Emma apart. 

She was crying harder and harder, unable to stop, unable to want to. Emma had even stopped all attempts to brush away her tears, letting the waves of them ease down her cheeks to dangle off her chin. She felt sick again, hot and dizzy, but Emma dared not to stand. She just kept on crying, and might have cried forever, if not for the sudden, persistent tapping on glass. 

Emma didn't register immediately the sound. Not until it got louder, not until it increased it's impatient beat, going from a dull tap to an outright knocking. Emma sniffled loudly, and looked up, her blank gaze going to the cabin's closed window. She didn't at first recognize that there was a pixie on the other side of it, banging her fists harder against the glass. A pixie who was frantic, her dust sifting around her in bursts of agitated red. 

It took several more minutes for Emma to think past her private heartache and pain, and then the grief was hitting her harder, because she knew what the pixie's appearance here meant. Peter was back! And that meant her adventure with Hook was now over, that there would be no more kisses, no more attempts, and no more smiles and teasing. A week ago Emma would have been relieved, now she only felt torn, wanting to see her brothers, but not wanting this special time to end. 

The tears that had never dried began flowing harder, Emma slowly, reluctantly rising from the chair. Every step that followed was hesitant, her aching heart an anchor weighing her down. Tinkerbelle glowed a hotter red, the tiny woman incensed by Emma's appearance, by the naked pain on the girl's face. She would bang harder on the glass, and something would budge just enough for Emma to be able to pull the window open. 

"Emma!" Tinkerbelle immediately began circling around her, red pixie dust showering down to cover every inch of Emma's body. The pixie made soothing sounds as she did this, her wings a red blur from her movements. She kept spinning around Emma, more and more dust falling, until the pixie came to an exhausted rest on Emma's left shoulder. 

Tinkerbelle didn't immediately register what was wrong, didn't immediately take note that Emma wasn't moving. She was too busy babbling her relief, her excitement over Emma still being alive only soured by the fact that her charge had been and still was crying. 

Emma was carefully brushing at her face, getting both tears and pixie dust on her hands. But nothing was happening, Emma unable to feel even the slightest of tingle that showed the dust was working. She stared past her red dusted hands, the room continuing to tilt, and then Emma was letting out a hysterical laugh, frightening Tinkerbelle in the process. 

"Emma!" She exclaimed, her tired wings moving at a much more sedate pace. Tinkerbelle had lifted up off Emma's shoulder, the tiny woman hovering before her, hands on her hips. "What...?" 

"It's not working." Emma stated out flatly, but the fact that she couldn't fly didn't feel like much of a victory. Instead it felt too much like a trade off, Emma again having to choose. Two worlds, but only one that she could belong to, and her tears began falling anew, Emma this much closer to outright wailing. 

Alarmed by the girl's reaction, Tinkerbelle began circling around her a second time, her tired wings working hard to both keep the pixie in flight, and produce enough dust. Emma sniffled, then gently caught at Tinkerbelle's form, not wanting the pixie to exhaust herself any further. 

"It's no use." Emma told her, and the pixie's worry turned to fury. 

"What did that pirate do to you?!" Tinkerbelle demanded. 

"Nothing." Emma's voice broke on a sob. "Nothing that I didn't do to myself." 

Tinkerbelle frowned at that. "I'm sure that's not true. You didn't ask for any of this. You..." Emma was shaking at this point, knowing Tinkerbelle didn't know the whole story. Didn't know what she had done, what she had allowed to take root in her heart. Most of all Tinkerbelle didn't know about Hook, about the kiss that Emma had stolen from him. 

"I..." 

"You're a good girl, Emma. A good sister." Tinkerbelle said over her. "Yes, you disobeyed Peter's strict orders, but you had a good reason! You were trying to save Galen. No one blames YOU for what has happened." 

"I..." 

"You shouldn't blame yourself either!" Tinkerbelle added, shaking a tiny finger at Emma. "Now put aside these self doubts and guilts, and let us fly out of here!" 

"I can't..." Emma shook her head no, unable to fly, unable to confess the indecision she was torn in half by. 

Her patience at an end, Tinkerbelle squirmed free of Emma's hands. "ENOUGH! You have to try!" She said firmly, grabbing hold of Emma's sleeve, her tiny fingers having a surprisingly strong grip. "Now! Up you go!" 

The pixie was trying to drag Emma with her, trying to bodily haul Emma up off the floor. Emma went up on tip toes, and then they were both at their limits, Tinkerbelle unable to support Emma's weight on her own. The pixie made a frustrated sound, circling around Emma, her eyes calculating, as though trying to see if there was something physically wrong with the girl. 

"I don't understand it!" Tinkerbelle cried out plaintively. "Your heart should be overflowing with joy to be rescued!" 

Emma's shoulders sagged, the girl biting at her bottom lip. Holding in both her guilt and her secret, Emma unable to admit, not even to Tinkerbelle, that joy was so far removed from what she was feeling, that it was in fact nonexistent for her. 

Lacking even the faintest glimmer of it, she found herself thoroughly grounded. Like a bird whose wings had been clipped, Emma's heart simply too heavy to soar. Captured more thoroughly than she had ever dared dream, Emma torn by the indecision, Hook on one side, her band of brothers on the other. 

A line thoroughly dividing them both, Emma stood straddling it, unable to truly choose, unable to want to. She would have stood forever hesitating, caught between the dream of her beckoning future, and that of her present. Thoroughly conflicted, damned by a kiss that she herself had taken, Emma had weighted herself down more effectively than even that of a past filled with it's share of trauma and horrors. 

Lost to the feelings inside her, to the misery seeping through her, Emma could only stare helplessly at Tinkerbelle. The little blonde pixie was turning a bright red, the tiny woman unable to hide her anger and frustrations. She let go of Emma's sleeve, and began flying about the room, muttering to herself, the pixie frantic and worried, and unable to deal with the pain presented before her. 

Emma watched her move, the pixie eventually making her way to the cabin's broken door. She wasn't able to dim the betraying glow of her body, Tinkerbelle peering through the crack of the door's frame, assessing whatever was going on outside. 

Emma had no idea what Tinkerbelle saw, what brought the excited burst of purple color to compete with the red glow of her body. But she worried all the same, not trusting that the bright colorful glows would not betray the pixie's presence. Worried for her, for what might happen should Tinkerbelle be discovered, Emma moved towards the pixie, intending to draw her away from the door. 

The purple color spreading, Tinkerbelle excited in ways Emma was not, the pixie darted past the girl's reaching fingers, latching onto her sleeve instead. Emma was nearly knocked off her feet, the tiny woman pulling so hard, dragging her closer to the door, it's still broken state easily no match for a determined pixie who was dead set on saving her charge. 

Stumbling, taken aback by the strength of the pixie's pull, Emma began a feeble protest that died down at the sight out on deck. The pure chaos she had been dragged into, Emma's eyes widening, her lips parting on a soundless gasp. Too numb to cry, too shocked to give voice to the throbbing protest felt in her heart, Emma could only stand there and stare, while a battle raged on all around her. FOR her, Emma seeing the people fighting, her brothers just as vicious, just as murderous as the pirates, and it was like nothing she had ever expected. Nothing she had truly been prepared for, the sight of her brothers killing, and her heart wept, for herself and for them, for the loss of innocence they were all enduring. 

Watching the oldest of her brothers fight, even kill, Emma knew that tonight would lead to a number of them growing up. The thought was horrific, the sheer overwhelmingly sense of loss only adding to Emma's pain and misery. The guilt that she felt had increased, Emma feeling it was all her fault, knowing that Peter and her brothers killed for her, because of her. 

Tinkerbelle was mottled mix of excitement and anger, the red and purples clashing, Emma standing rooted on the spot despite the pixie's best tugging. 

"Peter!" The pixie cried, but her voice wasn't loud enough to be heard over the roar of the fighting, her glow taking on more red as Tinkerbelle gave over to her agitation. 

Frozen in place, Emma took in the gory details of the fight. The brutal violence that waged on around her, Emma unable to focus on any one sight for long. There was the echoing clang of metal on metal, the sound of the wind itself disturbed, lost boys flying. Darting between opponents, fighting on all three ships, and then Emma was screaming, jarred into it by the sight of Hook battling, Peter Pan effortlessly weaving around him. 

Her scream was heard over the roar of the battle, Hook and Peter both fighting harder in response. The boy had both a sword and a dagger, defending himself against the pirate's furious attacks, Peter more serious than ever Emma could remember seeing. 

"Tinkerbelle, get her out of here now!" Peter was shouting, the pixie crying out in frustration. Making a show of trying to drag Emma up by her sleeve, and screaming about how she couldn't, about how Emma's thoughts were weighing her down. 

The pixie's screams were lost to the battle, Hook and Peter continuing their deadly dance. The girl was sure that Peter never lost sight of the pixie's tell tale glow, it's continued presence letting the boy know that they still remained on the ship. It left him distracted, and furious, Emma screaming out louder when she saw the pirate’s hook tear open a large gash in Peter's cheek. 

Peter letting out his own infuriated scream, hefted the sword in his hand. Emma saw his intent, started to scream out a no, and then Peter was spearing it right at Hook's head. Her heart nearly stopped completely, Emma feeling the world spin, Hook deflecting the sword with his, and she was too sick to be relieved, watching as Peter threw the dagger. Hook saw it too, but the man was too slow, to busy defending against the sword that was doing pointed thrusts at his front, the pirate unable to stop the dagger, unable to even try. 

The dagger slammed into the wood behind him, Hook's shadow pinned. Hook screamed in pained reaction, still swinging his sword, and Peter was laughing, the most horrible sound Emma had ever heard the boy make. 

"Peter!" Tinkerbelle was screaming, trying to drag Emma forward. And then Emma was running, ready to throw herself between the boy and the pirate, desperate to save them both. 

"Emma!" She heard all three say, and then Peter's hands were on her, lifting Emma up into his arms. Tinkerbelle was sobbing with relief, coming to a tired rest on Emma's shoulder. Emma herself was sagging, the world spinning faster and faster, until all she could hear was Hook's pained scream, the man shouting after her, snarling her name. 

With that same horrible laugh, Peter took to the sky. Emma saw Hook struggle in place, but he couldn't follow, couldn't even try. The dagger had his shadow pinned in place, Hook trapped by it, by the spell, and then lost boys were swarming him, three of Emma's own brothers attacking together. 

She couldn't bite back the scream, couldn't stop the horror from filling her eyes. Peter hovered for one second longer, than took off higher, his voice letting out a complex series of bird calls and whistles, that had the lost boys responding in kind. Emma watched through a tear blurred vision the sight of the fight abruptly abandoned, lost boys taking off into the sky. 

Hook's enraged screams chased after them, the unmistaken pain in his voice clear. And then they were in the clouds, and the sight of the ships were lost to them, Emma feeling the cold wisps of fluff clinging to her, making her shiver and she wasn't clinging to Peter, wasn't even trying. The boy's grip tightened on her, whispering reassurances that mingled with the tired pixie's own, but Emma couldn't stop crying, didn't even want to try. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! This officially ends Arc One. Finally! Yay! Though I've been worrying something awful about arc two. So I am both excited and nervous to have gotten the first arc wrapped up. Hook will still have a presence in arc two, but I worry ya'll will be disappointed (or even bored) that his air time has temp diminished. That's my main concern I think, aside from how to tell all the stuff I want too in arc 2, without rushing and or going too slow. It's gonna be a difficult balance to maintain, and I KNOW I am gonna slow down a lot with the updates because of it. Hook will get a few pov narrative, in fact the first chapter of arc 2 will probably be a Hook POV. 
> 
> There will be some Hook Emma interactions in arc 2, but mostly arc 2 is about Emma's growth, her love of her family, conflicting with her yearnings to grow up for Hook. I've been stressing that desire equals power in Neverland, and here poor Emma has two conflicting desires. It won't help that Peter will be doing his best to try and stop her from growing up. 
> 
> I can't wait to get to the chapter that eases into arc 3, cause there is something quite intense that will happen. But that's all I am gonna say, as I don't want to spoil this big scene. I've been trying to decide how much time it takes Emma to grow up....at first I thought it would play out with some time skips over the course of months. But now I am thinking arc 2 will most likely take place over the course of a week's time (or two) in Neverland. We shall see what ultimately ends up happening in that regard when I get to writing it. 
> 
> I had a really hard time with getting this chapter started. X_X I wrote so many trashed potential starting sentences, until I found the one that flowed best for me. Sad to say it took me almost 45 minutes to get my first paragraph written, cause I was fussing and stressing so much. *sheepish blush* 
> 
> 2/17/2018 updated and tweaked a bit.
> 
> \----Michelle


	24. Twenty Four

He had forgotten how to breathe, had forgotten how to even TRY. That wheezing gasp for air, that exaggerated attempt to inhale and exhale, had left his lungs burning, Hook choking, suffocating in place aboard the deck of the Jolly Roger. In a way it felt very much like he was drowning, caught in a tidal wave of emotion. Of FEAR. His, Hook scared nearly witless, the frightened pounding of his heart causing him to stumble. The sword slashing at him? Nearly gutted him whole, Hook just barely managing to get up his own blade in time to block the attempt. The laughter from above him came, louder and more malicious, the demon that voiced it all too aware of the pirate’s inner turmoil.

Swords sharp and at the ready, they kept on coming, three in all. Hook barely had time to react, barely had a chance to do more than parry. His hand and his hook both busy, the resounding clang of metal in his ears unable to drown out Peter Pan’s cruel jeering sounds. The wicked amusement that he was expressing, that he was enjoying, watching Hook struggle against three of the oldest of his lost boys.

Those gangly teens should not have poised a problem. Should not have had the strength and the speed to be anything more than a nuisance. Even united as they were, their arms moving, Hook’s body reacting, twisting and turning, deflecting and side stepping the worst of the attacks. It was a testament to Hook’s own expertise, to the skill he had honed within his own body, the muscle memory that reacted to the slightest of motions, the pirate twisting, turning and fighting, reacting all on the motions caught out the corner of his eye. Hook’s focus was all for the sky, for the sight of that monster, and the precious burden that he carried. The girl in his arms, Emma pale faced and sobbing, cringing back with her fear.

Emma didn’t know the half of that which she should be afraid of. None of these children did. There was a monster among their midst, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, who wasn’t bothering to hide a toothsome smile. That sharp pointed white gleamed with saliva, Pan practically salivating over the chaos around him. Over the chaos, and the meals it would be providing, Hook quick to realize that a whole lot of innocence was being destroyed with this fight. Maybe even more than Pan could handle, Hook looking away from Emma to briefly asses the boys battling him. They were older than they had been, the very acts of murder and malice that they had committed in Pan’s name, aging them. Leaving them at the tall end of childhood, these gangly half starved teens on the verge of becoming men.

Maybe THAT is why Pan gave the signal. The complex series of bird calls and whistles that signaled the Lost Boys to retreat. They didn’t even hesitate, taking off for the sky. The pirate swung his blade wildly about, tried to catch at a thin arm with the curved metal of his hook, but he had no hopes of following. The dagger that pinned his shadow in place saw to that, but even if that bit of evil magic hadn’t had a hold of Hook’s shadow, the dark haired captain would not have been able to fly. Not without pixie dust and a whole lot of happy thoughts, and both were in short supply on this ship.

Reeling in place, Hook screamed out his frustration, his snarls that of a wounded and frightened animal. That terrifying sound that he let out? It growled out a name, Hook shouting for Emma, shouting after the girl as though that would somehow bring her back. Somehow stop what was to happen. Eyes frantic, Hook locked his gaze with her horrified one. Her pale face peered over Pan’s shoulder, Emma unable to look away from the pirate as the demon carried her off. Hook again tried to lurch forward, but his trapped state could no more let him reach the railing of the ship, then allow him to take to the sky.

“Emma!” Hook howled again, and then she, Pan, and his band of lost boys had disappeared into the sky’s clouds. “Emma!” Hook tried again, even as he dropped hold of his sword, to grab hold of the spell holding him in place. Immediate was the reaction, Hook swallowing down a pained sound, as the zap and sizzle of Pan’s magic burned his skin in place. 

Teeth grinding together, Hook didn’t immediately let go. He let that evil spell keep on hurting him, Hook curling his fingers tighter about the dagger’s hilt, trying to force it free of the wall behind him. 

“Captain!” Something hit him then, a handful of white salt. There was a great tearing, the dagger coming free, Hook’s shadow popping back into place, the pirate now able to move better. His hand was burnt red and raw from the spell, the dagger clattering now harmless to the floor. He didn’t even look at it, Hook already turning, hurrying to the ship’s railing. His eyes back on the sky, Hook caught the flicker of shadows skirting past the moon, their destination clear.

“The main land.” He growled, and then whipped around, his voice roaring out of him to bellow out orders at his crew and at Smee. “Get the Roger ready to set sail!”

There was an audible groan, a world weary sigh and protest from much of the bedraggled crew. It was then that Hook realized that he wasn’t the only hurting, that some of the other pirates had suffered far worse injury than that of a burnt hand. He couldn’t make out much of the details, the night too dark, the lanterns lights snuffed out during much of the fighting. Hook couldn’t see the blood slick puddles on the Jolly Roger’s flooring, but he could see the shadowy forms of more than one pirate just laying there.

Not yet knowing if they were alive or dead, and not much caring, Hook bellowed his orders again. “You HEARD me.”

“Captain...”

“There’s no point.” came the voice. “They’re all as good as dead. SHE’S as good as dead…”

Already geared towards a murderous slant, the hopeless fury that came alive at those words, nearly led to a massacre, Hook only vaguely aware of hands touching on him. It wasn’t the touch that he wanted, those hands too big and burly compared to the delicate exploration done by one curious Emma Swan. It took both Mason and Smee to restrain him, and even then, such was Hook’s anger, than he managed a few steps forward. The two pirates were dragged forward with him, the men stubbornly refusing to relinquish their hold on the captain.

Hook opened his mouth to snarl, but the words were inarticulate, any argument that the pirate could have made falling flat. They all knew what Pan did to the children in his care, how he had feasted on the boys who had grown up in the past. This time would be no different, more children dying, Emma dying, and Hook refused to lay down and accept that as fact.

Standing taller, straighter, Hook tried to jerk his arms free of Mason and Smee’s grasp. “Get this ship ready or by Gods….”

“Captain, don’t.” Smee pleaded. “Please don’t put us through this. Please don’t put YOURSELF through it either.”

“You tried.” The pirate added, his voice too soft to carry to the rest of the crew. “If we had had just a little more time….”

“Time has NEVER been on our side.” Hook allowed his body to seemingly relax. Were Mason and Smee fooled by it? He couldn’t yet tell, the two pirates still hanging on to him. “Even though it be in an abundance here...”

Time in Neverland was more a curse than a blessing, and never had that been more apparent than now, Hook feeling the way that it worked against him. And yet the man kept on wishing for more, for just enough of it to go after Pan, to find and rescue Emma, to shuttle her off to safety. He wouldn’t be greedy. Hook wouldn’t allow himself to wish for anything more than that where the girl was concerned. He certainly wouldn’t wish for more time for himself, for the time needed to finally see Emma in her full grown glory.

“I’m going after her.” Hook announced. “With or without you.”

“What?” Came the hoarse sound of Mason’s startled gasping.

“Captain….”

“No more excuses.” Hook told them. “No more just standing by, too horror stricken to do anything more than bear protesting witness to the things that monster does.”

“But….but...” Stammered Mason. “You’ll die….?”

“Better to die with honor, than to live out life as a dog, too craven and cowardly to act.” Hook retorted. Mason was shaking his head no, but Smee seemed to understand, actually letting go of his hold on Hook’s arm.

“All right, I’m with you captain.” Smee announced, trying to sound brave.

“Have you BOTH gone mad?” Mason demanded.

“I’ll leave the Roger and it’s injured crew in your hands.” Hook told him. “Just….just keep the ship close to shore on the off chance we somehow make it back.”

“This is suicide!” Mason pointed out with a wild sounding exclamation. “Peter Pan is going to kill you if you try to stop him….!” His grip had slackened, Hook now able to pull free of it. “Smee, talk some sense into him!”

Smee could only shrug. “The captain’s set on this course.”

“But….”

“And so am I!” added the oldest looking of the Jolly Roger’s pirates. “You just worry about getting the ship repaired...”

Mason made a sound, an inarticulate attempt to speak. Hook ignored him, slamming his hook on a board. “All right you mangy lot! I want every one of you that’s NOT bleeding up and on your feet!” He ignored the groans and the protests. “There’s WORK to be done.”

“You heard the captain!” added Smee, clapping loudly with his hands over the grumbling that the crew was doing. “We’ve a lot to do, and not nearly enough time to do it, if we want to be on the mainland by morning!”

The crew wasn’t happy, and Hook couldn’t fault them for that. No one had ever liked watching what Pan did to the grown lost ones, that gruesome display of the red ruin that demon made of his meals. Hook’s pirates were especially loathe to go and bear witness to Pan doing such a thing to a girl, and to one they had known and admired, and had even lusted for.

Hook especially couldn’t stomach the idea of seeing first hand Pan tearing into another, of seeing Emma herself become just another meal for the monster’s belly. But more than that, Hook couldn’t handle his inability to not act any longer. It was more than just the girl’s gender, Emma herself special to Hook. Special and endearing, special and...Hook’s eyes then widened, a thread of thought he had nearly forgot, blazing back to life in his mind. Emma was the first, the only lost girl that Pan had ever claimed. That alone was a wholly unique factor but when figured in with the fact that Pan had just risked no small amount of his brood to wage a war meant to get Emma back? When that demon had never had any amount of trouble to forcibly take back a child who had finally grown up, all on his own and at his complete leisure? A piece of the puzzle had clicked into place, Hook not sure of the big picture, but certain of one thing. Young Emma Swan WAS special, and not just to him, but to Peter Pan as well. He didn’t yet know why, but the idea of it was enough to give Hook some much needed hope.

That seedling of hope that had blossomed inside him, helped to ease back the worst of Hook’s mounting anxieties. He could finally breathe better, no longer quite so suffocating on his own thoughts. He still feared for Emma, still worried what the demon Pan’s ultimate plan for her was, but Hook was at last able to act. He reclaimed his sword from the floor board’s of the Jolly Roger’s deck, picked up the remnants of Pan’s magic, that bespelled dagger that no longer bore it’s shadow manipulating enchantment. Hook fingered the dagger, but stared off at the mainland, his thoughts trying for a single cohesion. Difficult that, when he was spinning from thought and elation, memory and hope, all his fear and self recrimination, all his worry and his regret for and over Emma, for the damage he had been doing her, every moment between them played out in his mind. From that first world jarring instant that he had looked into her eyes, to everything that had followed, the few highs and the many, angry lows. His lips seemed to tingle with a forgotten warmth, the pirate remembering the second to last time he had seen Emma, and the kiss that she had been stealing.

Truth be known, that kiss had scared him, or at least it had once Hook was fully awake to realize just what had been happening. What he and Emma had BOTH been doing, Hook in his dreamy, half asleep state, having kissed the girl back. More than just kissing her, his tongue coming into play, his mouth hot and needy as it fed off the sweetly innocent press of the girl’s lips. A mortified heat STILL filled Hook, the man beyond embarrassed, remembering how bothered that affectionate expression had made him, how angry. Because young Emma hadn’t been at all sorry, the only regret that she had been expressing was that of Hook stopping her.

How easily he saw her then in his mind’s eye, her green eyes sparkling with rebellion, her cheeks tinged a healthy, hearty pink, those pouting lips just a little more swollen than they should be. She had been a defiant, needy little thing, voicing arguments as though Emma had had a right to defend what she had just done, the disaster that she had invited. It was a child who had argued with a woman’s passion in her green gaze, that forest alive in her eyes angry and hurt, and oh so admiring. Her stinging tone, her accusation had been like knives to his heart, Emma only succeeding in making Hook’s anger and guilt increase. A near incomprehensible rage had shook through him then, Hook tortured and aghast at the knowledge that Emma had, at the idea that she might have been exposed to so much worst than him and his pirates.

There was evil out in the realms. An evil nearly on par with that of the likes of Peter Pan and Rumpelstiltskin. It was impossible to champion against them all, Hook settling to be Emma’s hero. Hers and that of any the lost boys who could survive the coming storm.

 

To Be Continued….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know...the rewrite ended up shorted than the original attempt at 24. I also couldn’t seem to ease into the Emma POV in this chapter but oh well, there’s always 25…
> 
> Anyway….sorry about that last attempt that I haven’t tried to reread it since posting it. I felt THAT awful over it. Part of it was I was following the advice of a friend who said not to fight the fic, to go where it was telling me to go. But the sad part is, if I listen to the fic, it would probably be over in the next five chapters...which is not what I want, when I have so many plans and ideas to still try and write out for this AU universe…
> 
> Thinking about the other reasons the first attempt at 24 upset me, is I felt I rushed through it to much. Probably from the pressure I was putting on myself to finally get it done, but also it felt like it didn't have my brand of delving more in depth to the characters thoughts and feelings….
> 
> Still worrying about some things for arc 2. Like how Hook going after her has the potential to mess up the plot. But I realized over the course of arc 1, that Hook not wanting to go after her to try and save her would be pretty crummy. So I am tap dancing in that, trying to right the course of the fic, to include the scenes I wanted without Hook being a cold hearted ass who abandons Emma to Peter Pan.
> 
> Still think there won’t be as many Hook POVS in arc 2, as this is supposed to be the arc that focus more on Emma with Peter and the Lost Boys. I’ve always been eager to get to the end of this arc, cause it goes out with a big bang...Quite the moment to be had, if I can only write it to my satisfaction. Course I also have plans for the few times Emma and Hook do encounter each other in this arc. Somehow manages a smile over that. 
> 
> But I still worry people will get bored or restless with a lesser Hook presence in the arc. @_@ I am sorry it took me so many years to actually start arc 2. I’ve thought about this fic a lot, to the point I over think things and talk myself out of it. I also wasn’t sure about how to proceed, cause at one point I thought that once I switched to Emma’s narrative, I wouldn’t be able to go back to checking on Hook’s thoughts, without a lot of back tracking. Cause a part of me imagined arc 2 taking place over a long time…..but now I can’t help but think it’ll only be like a few weeks of time passing in fic time. But we’ll see what happens as I write it…
> 
> \---Michelle


	25. Twenty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick heads up, in case you didn’t see it. I did end up rewriting 24 completely….the rewrite was only a Hook POV and shorter than the original, but I think the rewrite was much better than my first stressed out attempt. Check it out if you haven’t already!
> 
> \----Michelle

The forest wasn’t at all like Emma had remembered. Dark and imposing, with shadows cast everywhere, not even the moonlight could reach this deep into the mainland’s woods. The tall, gnarled giants that passed for trees were somehow gruesome caricatures of her memories. With their long limb branches clawed and twisted, with faces made of knot holes that seemed to be leering at her with a malevolent intent. They were made even worse by the night breeze, by the wind that howled about and through them, a taunting imitation of voices and hungry growls. Emma shivered and couldn’t help but to clutch herself closer to the boy who was holding her.

If Peter noticed her disquiet and her upset, the boy chose not to comment. Emma thought he might even be relieved, her fright born of the woods, having locked the sobbing of her heart firmly inside her throat. She still cried though, still had that hot wave of tears wetting on her cheeks. But no sound accompanied them, not even a singe sniffle, Emma hiding her face against Peter Pan’s shoulder, as though to protect herself. From what exactly she could not say, the woods and it’s shadows? The pirates she had left behind? The man and the longing that had bloomed in her heart for him? Or was it her shame and the embarrassment, her tears a weakness that Emma didn’t much like. That Peter Pan himself didn’t like, the boy having already snapped out over them with a harsh voice.

It had been a tone harsher than anything Emma had ever heard come out of Peter Pan’s mouth, the boy not so much asking, as outright demanding she stop her useless bawling. “You’re better than that.” He had added at her gasp, Emma having cringed in on herself at that sharp reprimand.

“Peter!” Tinkerbelle had been aghast, the reproach apparent in her voice. Emma had felt instead of seen Peter’s reaction, the way his body had seemed to stiffen in response to the tired pixie snapping out at him. His arms had even went so far as to tighten around her, Emma having had to bite down on her own lip to keep in the pained whimpers.

“Sorry.” Peter Pan had then finally breathed out. And with that soft exhalation, had come the relaxing of his arms, the boy no longer maintaining a strangle hold on the girl’s body. 

“You should be!” The dark of the forest had been sliced with the slightest of glows, Tinkerbelle having still been colored an agitated red. “Emma has been through a terrible ordeal.”

The pixie hadn’t known the half of it, and Emma hadn’t been in any way eager to fill in the blanks. She still wasn’t, Emma keeping her face hidden. The howls of the wind were all around her, the cold air of the night breeze trying to freeze dry the tears on her skin. Peter did a winding zig zag through the forest, flying faster and faster, evading the branches that seemed to reach out with clawed finger tips for them both. It HAD to be her tired imagination, Emma shutting her eyes against such a sight. She couldn’t block out the sounds, that of the wind or that of her brothers’ whistles, the lost boys communicating a dozen upon dozen things with those bird calls.

There was a solemn jubilation to what had been accomplished this night. To the rescue that had been achieved. The lost boys celebrated Emma’s return, the love and the outpouring of relief tainted by the group’s own despair. By the innocence cost, the sacrifices made, a great number of her brothers having aged exponentially this night. The fighting had done it, the life and death circumstances surrounding the battle, leading some of Emma’s own brothers to become cold blooded killers. 

She was to blame. The love that Emma had inspired, these boys, her brothers, willing to risk just about anything to get their sister back. She might have wept for their loss of innocence if Emma hadn’t been so busy fighting to retain HERS. It wasn’t just the pirates, it wasn’t just her feelings for Captain Hook. Things had gone beyond that, Emma weighted down by her sadness and her guilt, the if only of her heart. Torn ragged by it, by the two worlds that she now straddled, Emma could only wonder if there was anything that she could have done differently. Something to avert the disaster all around them, the growing up that was upon so many of the Lost Ones.

Emma couldn’t even take comfort in the fact that she hadn’t gone completely selfish. That she hadn’t become so obsessed with her own heart’s hurt and desires, that Emma would have neglected that of her brothers. As much as her heart was filled with that inexplicable longing, Emma couldn’t give in. She wouldn’t, the girl needing to see to her family.

Nodding her head firmly to herself, Emma blinked back the worst of her tears. One arm relaxed its grip on Peter, the girl bringing it’s hand to scrub over her face. That motion caused the tired pixie on perched on her shoulder, to tighten a grip on Emma’s hair, Tinkerbelle still too exhausted to fly on her own.

“There there.” Tinkerbelle’s voice was soothing. “That’s a good girl.”

“I’m sorry.” Emma whispered.

“Nothing you need to be sorry for, Emma. Right, Peter?” The pixie demanded in a sharp tone. Emma might have started to cry once more if Peter Pan had so much as hesitated.

“Right!” He said with an exuberance of good cheer. He seemed to fly slower, letting the other lost boys get ahead of them. “I’m...I’m sorry too.”

Emma couldn’t stop the surprise, the girl lifting her head up to peek up at Peter’s profile. He hadn’t yet looked at her, his eyes on their surroundings, alert to the trees and obstacles that could just as easily end this flight with their deaths.

“Peter?”

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you for,….for your emotions.” It was too dark to see properly, and Tinkerbelle’s glow was most likely the reason for the red on Peter’s face. It couldn’t be anything else Peter Pan not one to get embarrassed EVER.

“You have a right to be upset.” Emma began, but Peter talked over her.

“But not at you!” Now he looked at her, hovering to a stop in mid air. The trees seemed to groan more, their branches rattling as though trying to get at them. 

“Why NOT me?” Emma wanted to know. “If I hadn’t…”

“If you hadn’t, Galen would have been killed or worse.” Peter told her. Emma frowned at that, her heart no longer believing the pirates capable of actually killing a child. Not even the battle of this night could convince the girl otherwise, Emma certain that the only killing that had been done, had been by lost boy hands.

She didn’t want to argue with Peter on this, not now, not when her heart was already so heavy. Emma didn’t want or need any further hurt feelings and confused thoughts dragging her down further. Or spilling onto Peter, and grounding him as well.

“So please Emma….don’t blame yourself.” Peter all but begged. “No one else does...” He had finally turned his face down towards her, and with Tinkerebelle’s glow for light, Emma could see into Peter’s eyes. They shined with what she thought was an earnest light, that hazel color ever so bright with his youthful sincerity. Emma found herself nodding, for the first time ever the girl lying to Peter. 

“Okay.” She said it as though it was the simplest thing in the world. And once it might have been, Emma able to cast away worries and self blame all too easily. Now her heart wouldn’t let go of the hurt, or of the doubts she now had, the girl trying to put on her bravest face to keep Peter Pan happy.

He stared into her eyes a moment longer than necessary, than broke out into a relieved grin. Suddenly he was letting out an excited crow of sound, the faint reverberations of answering whistles and bird calls from the other lost boys sounding from a distance. 

“Now let’s get you home!” Peter said, hefting her more securely in his arms. Emma put her arms around him for good measure, and nodded a yes. He grinned even more, going from a stand still to speeding like lightning through the forest. Emma felt her hair whip around madly as a result, the girl looking around, as moonbeams began to weave their way through cracks in the forest’s roof top foliage. Somehow those slivers of moon light made all the difference, the woods now no longer seeming quite as scary. Emma wondered at the magic of the moon, the power it had over even the trees shadows. No longer quite so monstrous, the trees themselves seemed to be smiling rather than snarling, and their long limb branches were just that.

The trees began crowing in closer together, Peter somehow miraculously knowing how to navigate the tight spaces at such a fast speed. Emma still couldn’t quite keep from gasping, from shutting her eyes a few times in fright, especially when it looked like they might not avoid a tree trunk in time. Through that narrow space did they fit through, emerging out onto the inside of a forest glade. And not just ANY glade, but that of the Lost Ones’ home, the older boys hovering about the expansive space, and at Peter Pan’s whooping sound, the mighty oak all but exploded, excitement and screams and children spilling out to surround them. They didn’t even wait for Peter Pan to land, the young boys taking to the sky, all crowding around him to look and touch at the girl in his arms.

“Emma!” They were shouting, so excited and so relieved. “Emma, you’re back!”

A wave of her own relief had hit her, Emma nearly bursting into tears. She had to blink repeatedly to hold the hot moisture back, the girl smiling as a pair of thin arms tried to embrace her, the hug made more awkward by the fact she was still being held in Peter’s arms. 

“Easy there Bradley.” Peter was laughing. “Emma’s not going anywhere any time soon!” That unfortunate phrasing, cause a stab of guilt to spear through Emma’s heart, the girl reminded of how she had been tempted. It didn’t much matter that she had fought it, that she had let the idea of her family’s hurt and disappointments ground her in place. The fact that it had happened remained, a part of Emma wanting to grow up.

That same part was haunted by stolen kisses, by the remembered feel of soft lips and softer smiles, of eyes that were so blue they put the waters of the mermaids’ lagoon to outright shame. She could have drowned then, the longing bubbling up inside her, Emma remembering his rejection. The words that the handsome pirate captain had all but snarled at her.

Years too young for his kisses, years too young for him, the secret shame in Emma’s heart wasn’t so much that she had been caught by the pirates, but that she had been caught by HIM. By the feelings, the desire that Captain Hook had inspired in her. Taken with it, taken with him, Emma couldn’t switch off those feelings, couldn’t stop the temptation that whispered still on how it might not be a bad thing to grow up just a little.

Not even little Bradley’s arms about her could totally shake her free of such thoughts. The young boy wasn’t quite sobbing his relief, trying to be oh so brave. He kept on whispering how much he had missed her, and how hard he had tried, Bradley doing a loud sniffle into her hair. It was a wonder that the boy could still even fly, but then Emma supposed the excitement and relief he had felt to see her safe, had fueled enough happy thoughts to lift him back up into the sky.

Emma twisted enough in Peter Pan’s hold, to put an arm around the boy who was hugging her. That seemed to be the signal that all the other lost ones were waiting for, the smallest of the group crowding around for one gigantic attempt at a group hug. There was a lot of shouting and smiling, and boys jostling about for space. Tinkerbelle shifted redder, and shot up out of the crowd, not liking the feel of such a tight enclosed space closing in around her.

“You’ll have to tell us ALL about it, Emma!”

“Oh yes!” A pair of small hands clapped together excitedly. “You simply must!”

“There’s really not much to tell.” Emma hedged. 

“Not much to tell?!” came the disbelieving exclamation. “You were alone with Captain Hook and his pirates for longer than a week!”

“That long?” Emma whispered. It had felt like even longer, and yet at the same time far, far too short a time, the girl having actually wished it was more. 

The longing was in her heart, the girl greedy for even just one more day with the captain. Even if he had been at his angriest, so inexplicably mad and furious with Emma for what she had done. For what she had stolen from him, and her face felt hot at just the memory.

“That long.” Bradley voice drew her back from those thoughts just barely. “They didn’t hurt you, did they, Emma?” The youngest of the lost boys sounded ever so anxious. 

It was a question that had no easy way to answer, Emma remembering more than just Hook. Rauol came to mind, the girl shivering over what that perverted pirate had wanted, but there was also Damien, the dirty colored blonde who had tried to see her dead. She couldn't at all speak on such things, not wanting to further worry and trouble her brothers, but Emma also didn’t want to outright lie to them.

“It was nothing that I couldn’t handle...” She settled on for her answer. 

“I knew it!” exclaimed a voice that belonged to a boy that was slightly older than Bradley. “You can handle nearly anything Emma! You’re almost as awesome as Peter!”

“I wouldn’t go that far!” protested Emma. It wasn’t embarrassment that she was feeling, Emma more alarmed than anything. The girl didn’t want such praise, didn’t want them thinking her something that she was not, Emma feeling she no longer had the right to be so idolized. Not when she had nearly failed her family, that secret longing to grow up STILL inside her.

“I would!” Bradley and the others were insisting and Peter Pan was laughing, a youthful chuckle of sound that was nothing like the jeering malice she had heard him let loose with while on Hook’s ship. The memory of that unsettled her, Emma shifting about in the group hug to try and get a good look at Peter. Those hazel eyes were on her, looking as kind and as warm as she could ever remember seeing, Emma searching the planes of his faces for any signs. But his cheeks still retained that round youthfulness, Peter Pan looking very much like a boy who was only a year or two older than Emma.

Something was off though. Something she couldn’t quite place, and then she did, Emma gasping.   
“Peter! What happened to your cheek!?”

A slow blink of those hazel colored eyes, Peter’s lips doing a twitch that might almost be a frown. And then he was smiling again, laughing and shrugging. “Not a thing, Emma! Not a thing at all.”

She shook her head quickly, reaching with trembling fingers to her face. The boys that had crowded around them for that chaotic group hug, now all shifted with her, pulling back to peer at Peter Pan’s face. The teen was looking at Emma, giving her the queerest of looks.

“What’s wrong?”

“I saw you.” Emma breathed out. But her fingers only felt smooth skin. “I saw what Hook did to you...”

“What did that wicked pirate do to Peter?!” The lost boys all wanted to know, and they seemed to squeezed in closer to Emma, while looking their leader over.

“His hook...right here...” Her fingers sketched a line across his cheek, the skin there in no way torn and bloodied. “It was AWFUL.’ She added, actively wincing. “So much blood….”

“He didn’t come close to laying a hand on me, Emma.” Peter was trying to reassure her. “OR a hook.”

“But I saw him….saw you...” Emma protested, and yet there wasn’t even a scar, Peter’s cheek not only healed, but smooth as though it had never been torn in the first place.

“Poor thing.” Tinkerbelle said from somewhere above them. “To imagine such things. What an ordeal you’ve been through Emma.”

“It’s been an ordeal for all of us.” It was a voice that wasn’t familiar to Emma, the shock of a stranger making her twist away from her examination of Peter’s face.

“Who’s there!?” She shouted out, hackles raised at the thought of an intruder in THEIR glade. A nervous chuckle was her answer, the lost boys shifting enough to reveal one of the older boys who had taken part in the earlier battle. Emma tried to place him, her eyes searching over his face. Gaunt faced and pale, the boy was a tall, thin youth. A teenager that might now be older than that of Peter Pan’s physical age.

“Have I really changed that much?” The teenager asked with a very sad and all too knowing a smile.

Emma kept on staring at him, trying to figure out why his eyes seemed so familiar when the rest of him did not.

“After all the weight that you have shed?” Came a teasing snort from one of the other of Emma’s now older brothers. “Is it any wonder that she’s at a lost?”

Emma eyes widened at that, trying to imagine how this teen might have looked younger and fatter. With those cheeks all puffed out and rosy, with a round belly and enough pounds to trouble several of her younger brothers with their attempt at lifting.

“Gavin?” She squeaked out, and it was so sad and so horrible, Emma staring at the boy, the very brother she had gone to rescue the day that she had been captured in his place. 

The boy, Gavin nodded, and drifted nearer to her. Emma reached out to him, and he flew into her touch. “I’m SO sorry Emma.” He said, holding onto one of her hands. “If not for me...” There was guilt flashing in his eyes, enough pain and regret there that had helped to speed Gavin to grow up. 

“Don’t!” Emma started to protest, and then Peter Pan was practically growling.

“If YOU hadn’t been so fat and so slow….”

“Peter!” gasped out Emma.

“No, it’s all right. He’s right, Emma.” Gavin squeezed her hand harder. He hadn’t once looked at Peter Pan, not even at that angry accusation. “If not for my fondness for sweets, that pirate and his mangy crew would never have been able to catch me.”

“You should have known better, Gavin!” Tinkerbelle admonished in a scathing tone. “We nearly lost Emma because of you!”

“I’m okay, Tinkerbelle.” Emma pointed out. “So please...”

“No you are not!” The agitated glow of the pixie burnt the reddest that Emma had ever seen, the tiny woman darting down towards the girl’s face. She pointed an accusing finger at Emma’s nose, pixie dust sifting off of her arm. “And the fact that you can’t fly, proves it!”

There was an exaggerated sound from the group, a horrified gasp from the younger boys who had not been part of the battle over the sea. 

“Is it true, Emma?” One asked.

“Of course it’s true!” scoffed another. “Peter wouldn’t have to carry her otherwise!”

“I suppose even a big sister can be scared of pirates….”

“Anyone would be scared of a pirate as wicked as Hook!” The ever loyal and ever devoted Bradley pointed out. “It doesn’t make Emma any less brave.”

“No, it does not.” agreed Peter. He shifted again, as though tired, and it occurred to Emma just how long Peter Pan had been having to support her weight and his.

“All right everyone! Back off and let us down!” She ordered in a firm tone. “Even a boy as strong as Peter can’t be wanting to hold up a girl as heavy as me for any longer.”

“You’re not really all that heavy….” protested Peter.

“At least not when compared to how Gavin used to be.” Another teenager grumbled. His voice was halfway familiar, the boy not yet as old as Gavin had grown, instead stuck in that prepubescent age where his voice still occasionally cracked.

“Stewy?” Emma hazarded a guess, and was rewarded with a dazzling if slightly crooked smile.

“The one and the same.” He said, his voice cracking between high and low. It should have been comical, but Emma couldn't laugh, the change in Stuart just another thing that she had reason to feel guilty about. 

“Were you eaten up by guilt too?” She asked, as Peter touched them down onto the grassy floor of the glade. 

“Not exactly.” The boy seemed uncomfortable, holding something behind his back. 

“What is that you are hiding?”

“Not hiding anything!” Stuart insisted. Emma wriggled free of Peter Pan’s arms, intent on approaching the other boy. “I’m not!” He snapped out angry this time, and took to the sky, the one thing that Emma could no longer do on her own.

“Stewy!” Emma exclaimed, her mouth wide open with her shock.

“I’ll get him!” Bradley offered in an eager and excited tone, but Peter caught hold of the youngest of his boys by the foot.

“Let him be.”

“But!” Bradley’s lower lip trembled, as though holding back a pout. 

“It’s Stuarts decision to make.” Peter seemed to be reminding Bradley of something. The little boy sighed, and looked down to the ground, mumbling something about not liking it. Emma didn’t much like it any better, her eyes still looking upwards. Stuart had flown even higher seeming intent on isolating himself from the entire group.

“Stewy.” Emma whispered his name sadly. The girl had a very real suspicion on just what had been making the boy grow up, on what had made so many others start the process this night. The fighting and the killings, and Emma again blamed herself.

“It’s tough decisions we’ve all had to make.” Peter spoke as though he had read her mind, as though he could guess the reason behind the pain on Emma’s face. And maybe in this one case, he could, Emma looking down at her toes in the grass.

“Are….are you going to grow up too?”

Peter surprised her with his laughter and Emma glancing up at him. “Never.” He proclaimed with a lopsided grin. “I’ll NEVER grow up.”

“How can you be certain?” Emma asked with a frown. “The fighting tonight, the killing….”

“As if I’d let a pirate take ANYTHING from me!” Hazel colored eyes bore into her, almost as though Peter Pan was speaking in a hidden meaning. Emma had so many questions and concerns, her mouth opening to give voice to at least one of them, when the other children crowded around them excited.

“Peter, is it true?! Did you kill someone?!”

Peter let out an uproarious sound, shaking with his amusement. “Not a one!” He told them. “I’d sooner lick a toad than I would stain my blade with a pirate’s blood!”

“But you did fight, didn’t you?” asked another.

“Did I ever!” Peter had drawn his short sword from the leather scabbard at his side, giving a kind of expert twirl that was nothing like the vicious jabs that Emma had seen him doing towards Captain Hook. “That one handed pirate didn’t stand a chance against me!” He boasted. 

“Tell us about it!” exclaimed the excited crowd of children.

“Why tell you when I can show you!” Peter said, targeting Gavin for this mock battle. The much older boy cried out in alarm, just barely getting his sword up in time, Peter slamming into him. The boys in the glade cheered, watching as Gavin scrambled to keep out of reach of the worst of Peter Pan’s sword thrusts.

“You’re so fast Peter!” Came the admiration. “I bet that wicked old pirate never even saw you coming!”

“Never did!” Laughed Peter, even as he continued to recklessly come after Gavin. 

“Lay off!” The teen snapped, red faced and panting. Emma didn’t understand how Gavin could already be so out of breath, or why his upset seemed to increase when he caught a look at Peter Pan’s face. “I said quit it!” Gavin cried out again, his voice going higher with something that might very well be fear. Peter seemed to realize it too, but instead of backing off he only got more vicious, jabbing his short sword at Gavin’s middle.

A rip was heard, the teenager’s tunic tearing under the sharp tip of the sword. The crowd of children didn’t seem to think anything of it, cheering their hero on against this representation of their hated foe. Gavin suddenly slashed out his own arm with a violent speed, the blade biting into his arm, making him bleed.

“Thought you’d rather lick a toad!” He all but screamed out in upset fury. “Then make anyone bleed!”

“Never said that!” Peter pointed out. “And I never said anything about anyone who isn’t a pirate!”

Huffing and puffing with his anger, Gavins eyes were blazing, the boy both angrier than Emma could ever remember him seeing, but also so very afraid. He’d back up for every step that Peter took forward, while the children in the glad all continued to cheer.

Everyone but Emma, the girl darting forward to try and get between the two boys. It was an eerie parody of what she had tried to do in the real fight earlier, and just like that time, Peter snatched hold of her, and held her in his arms. She put out her arms, laying one on both boys, in a gesture meant to demand peace.

“Fight’s over.” The girl said in a firm tone of voice. A desperate and imploring look was given to Peter, Emma trying to both soothe and appease him. “You’ve won. You’ve defeated the pirate captain and taken back what’s rightfully yours. You saved me, and that’s all that matters.”

Peter had hesitated at her words, enough time given for Gavin to mutter an angry, “Whatever.” 

“You’re the hero of the hour.” added Emma with a forced smile.

Peter Pan then grinned. “You hear that boys?! I’m EMMA’s hero!” He let out an excited whoop, spun her around in dizzying circles. The lost boys joined them up in the sky, laughing and dancing about, their energy excited and wild. Only Gavin and Emma seem to hold back, the infectious glee overtaking the glade, seeming to somehow skip over them.

Amidst the endless spinning, Emma caught sight of Gavin, the boy looking skywards. Not so much at Peter, but at Emma, with the oddest of expressions, as though he was infinitely sorry about something. Emma couldn’t imagine what HE had to be sorry about, nor could she ask him, caught in Peter Pan’s grip as she was. 

Higher and higher they soared, Emma not only dizzy, but more than a little afraid. It made her cling her arms tighter around Peter, as though a part of her didn’t trust him to NOT drop her. Such a worry upset her, and not just because the ground was now so very far away. To not trust Peter Pan went against her nature, went against her every belief, Emma knowing that she owed a lot to Peter Pan. For the family he had given her, for the evil he had saved her from. He had in fact given Emma her life back, a present and a future, and for that she would be eternally grateful. It didn’t mean she would overlook his bullying of Gavin, Emma intended to have a talk with Peter Pan about that kind of bad behavior. 

She even hoped to broker a peace between the two boys, Emma feeling that Peter shouldn't harbor a grudge against Gavin for what had happened. It had been HER choice to make, her decision to go after the boy, and her fault that she had been caught in the first place. That she was STILL caught, Emma closing her eyes briefly, to ward off the worst of the dizziness, the lightheaded feelings and the fear this high a height was making her feel. It was easier to chase off those feelings, than the ones that had blossomed in her heart for one Captain Hook, Emma thinking of the man who was in fact her TRUE hero. Who would always be Emma’s hero, and there was nothing and no one, not even Peter Pan, who could change that.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Collapses. Well I didn’t get to where I originally wanted to end it and for a second it was like the chapter that did not want to come to a close. Originally I imagined it ending with one of the lost boys commenting on Emma looks different somehow, and Peter Pan whipping around to creepily eye her. I even imagined at one point, Peter would be looking up at where Gavin had flown off to, licking his blood off the sword, when the kid would say that thing about Emma looking different/older. I don’t know if I’ll get the blood licking off the sword thing, but I do want the you look different/older moment to happen….I guess it depends on if I continue right from where I left off, or if I go with what I had originally thought I’d do for the next chapter, which is start off with the morning after...hmm...I suppose I could always ease into the morning after, and have a flash back or too that includes that stuff….
> 
> Halfway through writing this, I started doubting and hating on the chapter. I am glad I didn't trash it, that I went and read over the first 3700 words...and thus reassured myself that it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I feel like I am so inexperienced at writing a bunch of kids, little ones, and teenagers, all interacting. @_@ Hope this chapter and the other ones focus on the lost boys won’t be too boring or suck….
> 
> I also did a lot of rethinking on the Hook side of things. Okay when I first came up with this story, I was stupid. I don’t know why….why didn’t I think how big an asshole it would make him look if he didn’t go after Emma in arc 2. Basically when I originally planned this story out, I imagined Hook in arc 2, mostly doing his own thing….it wasn’t until I started writing the actual story, that I started going, wait a minute...if he cares about her, he’d go look for her. He wouldn’t be cold hearted and cruel and leave her to that fate, no matter what…..so I am glad I was able to figure out how to adjust the story accordingly to that. As such some of what I wanted in arc 3 is probably going to spill over into arc 2, mostly with the Indian shamaness and tribes. They’re having an extended role, or the shamaness is at any rate, and I have started joking that the Indian shamaness is secretly a Captain Swan shipper. But I will leave why that is to all of your imaginations for now! XD
> 
> So I am feeling a lot more confidant about arc 2 now! And slowly dying for more Hook Emma interactions of any kind. So hard not to spoil about one in particular, and let’s just say I am pretty sure the one I am most eager to detail happens at the mermaids’ lagoon! So excited.
> 
> Though sometimes I worry some of the details are so stupid or I did them wrong. @_@ sighs.
> 
> \---Michelle


End file.
